


Fairy Tale

by jusrecht



Series: Infinity [1]
Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Post R1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-26
Updated: 2008-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Losing everything is just the beginning. The worse hell is trying to get them back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fairy Tale

 

1.

It started out innocently enough.

‘Innocent’ may not be the right word, considering what they were actually starting, but Suzaku honestly cannot put a name to this little affair which has been going on for months between them.

Again, ‘affair’ doesn’t sound right either, too grand of a word, too melodramatic. This is one man fucking another man – or a seventeen-year-old boy in this case – and the rest is just a bed, a tube of lubricating gel and feverish gasps. No flowers or whispered romantic words to make it look prettier. In fact, it is ugly – too many lies and wicked, almost cruel ulterior motives and once again, _lies_. Suzaku has never experienced anything more false in his life.

The death of his princess was the beginning of everything.

He knew he was starting to fall in love. Perhaps it was inevitable. She was this beautiful princess with not only a kind heart, but also the courage to right what was wrong. When she chose him to be her knight, it was nothing short of a Cinderella story.

Only not as beautiful. Not as smooth. Not as perfect.

Long time ago, when all had been nice and well, Nunnally often told him about this bedtime story her mother had read to her every night. His ten-year-old self would have smiled and promised wholeheartedly that he would always be her prince no matter what – and that, usually, would have triggered a vehement declaration from Lelouch that he would never, ever give his sister away to an uncouth ruffian who had never beaten him in chess even once. Now, he could only think of how unfair it was that the greatest obstacles this Cinderella had to overcome were her stepmother and sisters, not the whole world.

Then again, it was a fairy tale. He knew his story wasn’t the moment Zero fired that shot from his gun and killed her.

Zero had taken everything from him. His princess, his dreams, his best friend, and the worst of all, his ability to trust. Because if it wasn’t Lelouch’s face staring back at him from behind that mask, he might still be able to collect the last bits of his sanity, piece them together, and make an effort to go on. But Zero was Lelouch and Lelouch was Euphie's murderer and that was the end of his world.

 

\-----

 

2.

When he woke up, it was to a familiar beeping sound. Someone was sitting next to his bed and there was a warm hand clasping his cold fingers. With some effort, he opened his eyes, and found Cecile’s face smiling down at him.

“Hello, Suzaku-kun,” her gentle voice broke the monotonous sound coming from the machine to his left, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

Despite the anaesthetic haze in his mind, Suzaku wanted to cry himself.

When Lloyd came into the hospital room, it was with a scowl on his face. His right cheek exhibited a large white plaster on it, covering what Suzaku realised must be the stark proof of his insubordination.

“You’re lucky this time, Suzaku-kun,” the earl told him, a tinge of disapproval in his voice. “I won’t help you the next time you lie bleeding yourself to death somewhere after taking Lancelot away from me by force.”

Then, of course, he remembered everything. Euphie. Zero. Lelouch. _Zero_. Suzaku barely noticed Cecile’s hands trying to hold him down when he sat up and screamed at the older man.

“Then why did you?!”

A horrible pain exploded in his head and the wound in his shoulder burned – the wound Kallen had given him. Kallen, burying a bullet in his shoulder to save Zero – Zero who had killed Euphie. Suzaku had never felt more betrayed in his life. His eyes were hot with tears and he was holding himself tightly because every joint in his body hurt, every nerve's end screamed.

Because Euphie was dead. Because Lelouch, to him, was worse than dead. Because Zero took everything from him.

“Because you are still needed here.”

The new voice made him freeze. He knew he had heard it before, and the way Cecile immediately straightened up was all he needed to confirm his guess. Suzaku looked up slowly and found the Second Prince of Britannia looking down at him.

“ _I_ am needed?” his voice came out rough, scraped by broken splinters of a contemptuous laugh. The idea was nothing but laughable at the moment. He, who could protect nothing, let alone his princess, was needed?

“Yes.” There was barely any inflection at all in the hardness of the prince’s voice and it was so unlike the compassionate older brother whom he had once seen speaking to Euphie that Suzaku had to blink.

“Why?”

Schneizel's eyes, cold as if encrusted with ice, narrowed as he said, “Because I want Zero’s life.”

And, Suzaku realised, so did he.

 

\-----

  
3.

It was the dawn after the bloodshed.

The sunlight felt warm on his face as he stood in front of a large window which took almost the entire east wall of the large waiting room. He had been escorted here to the Governor General’s villa and left alone to his own devices for almost an hour now. The purpose of this visit was unclear, but he could tell that it had something to do with him, an Eleven, serving in the Britannian Army.

The world, he reflected silently, hadn’t changed much. Thousands of Britannian and Japanese had died during yesterday’s conflict, but time didn’t seem to care and just ticked away – you could deal with it and go on or just lie there and die, that kind of attitude. He had spent all night thinking about Euphie, Japan, Britannia, and then Euphie again. After her death, nothing seemed to matter anymore. He had wanted to kill Zero, yes, but his red-hot anger had long since frozen after he had discovered her killer’s true identity.

However, he could not banish it from his mind – the memory of her dying and still the first thing she had asked was if everyone had been happy with her work. Euphie had not cared in the slightest that she was literally bleeding her heart out. She loved the people – _his_ people,  hers, everyone, there was never a difference for her. It wasn’t a happy memory, but it continued to bother him to the point where he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t exist anymore.

Maybe Euphie was trying to tell him something. Suzaku realised that he almost wanted to believe it. Maybe.

The moment was broken by the sound of the door opening. He watched, with no little amount of surprise as Schneizel El Britannia walked in with the grace all princes and princesses seemed to possess and an apologetic smile on his face.

“Pardon my lateness, Suzaku-kun. I had a meeting from which I could not escape.”

If the prince had said that he had just returned from visiting the bunny rabbit in the moon, Suzaku could not have been more surprised. He had expected someone from the military to meet him and go over all the details which would undoubtedly end with him signing a letter of resignation, but the Second Prince himself? He was so baffled that putting together a decent response was the last thing in his mind.

Then the initial shock wore off and he realised whose greeting he had been ignoring. Suzaku quickly bowed, but the action was stopped by a gloved hand on his upper arm, careful enough not to touch the wound on his shoulder.

“So how are you feeling today? Better, I hope?”

Looking up to a pair of smiling violet eyes, he could only manage a small ‘yes’. The prince nodded, as if satisfied, and turned his attention to the sunlit garden beyond the window, lightly commenting on the beautiful weather. The remark was followed by a short history of the villa, delivered in the same carefree fashion which made Suzaku feel like he had met a different person yesterday.

What had happened?

“It is a beautiful morning. What do you say about a little walk in the garden?” the prince suddenly asked, breaking him out of his perplexed musing.

“Oh…” Again, the question left him utterly speechless, but he recovered quickly enough this time. “Yes, of course,”

They stepped out to the porch and descended to the garden, following a winding path covered in white stone. It was a fine day and the flowers were all in full bloom, but Suzaku could already feel various kinds of ominous doubt swarming the interior of his mind. That Euphie had treated him nicely was one thing, but this was her brother, the prince who would inherit the throne of Britannia should anything happen to his elder brother. The idea that a man of such distinction would trouble himself with a mere honorary Britannian was just a little too difficult to believe. There must be something.

“This garden was designed by my brother, Clovis, himself,” the prince said, seemingly unbothered by his total silence. Suzaku raised his eyes from the stone-strewn path and discovered that they had paused near a thicket of white roses. The older man held out a hand to admire one of the flowers and added with a faint sigh, “It is unfortunate that I no longer can express my admiration to him in person.”

Suzaku stiffened at this. It sounded like a harmless remark, but he wasn’t sure – after all, he had once been the main suspect of the murder of said brother. He glanced at the prince warily and was startled to find the violet eyes focused on him.

“So what is your answer, Suzaku-kun?”

Having absolutely no idea what the question was, Suzaku’s only option was to repeat, “My answer?”

“To my offer for you to stay and continue your service in the Britannian Army. I was expecting that you would be able to give me an answer today.”

If the entire situation had not been surreal enough, he was convinced that it was now. The offer simply brought it to this whole new level that would exceed any standard of surrealism anywhere.

And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how ‘I want Zero’s life’ could be translated to ‘I want you to stay with us’.

“Why?” The question had left his mouth before he knew it.

“Because you are still needed here.” The prince's reply was calm, confident, almost like he wasn’t repeating an old answer which practically explained nothing.

Suzaku stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

A flicker of amusement flitted across the prince’s face as he went to elaborate. “I am certain that your superior, Earl Asplund, has mentioned that you are a vital part of his Lancelot. Your skill with the Knight Mare Frame is not to be taken lightly, but it is only one of many reasons why I ask you to stay. You are the black horse, Suzaku-kun. I will even go as far as saying that your presence is imperative to settle this dispute.”

And it had just gotten more surreal. Suzaku was, to be honest, completely baffled but his initial surprise quickly gave way to suspicion. After years being treated like a trash in the Britannian Army, it was difficult for him to believe that one of its highest lords was actually holding him in such high regards. There must be more to it, something he had yet to know

“Pardon my bluntness, Your Highness, but I don’t think it’s true,” he said, not bothering to filter the incredulity out of his voice. “I have failed in my duty to protect Euphemia-sama.”

"That my judgment is wrong is of course a conceivable possibility,” the prince replied placidly, “but such things cannot be said for sure during times like this. At the moment, nothing is certain.”

But he couldn’t protect Euphie, and for Suzaku it was final – the end of everything, the only thing that mattered. He looked down and shook his head. “I’m really thankful for the offer, Your Highness, but I don’t think it’s– I don’t think I should stay.”

“Is it Euphie whom you cannot forgive?”

Suzaku whipped his head up so fast at the question. “It wasn’t Her Highness's fault,” he said sharply. “It had never been Euphemia-sama’s fault. Zero made her do it.”

There was a curious look on the prince’s face – and Suzaku realised that he probably knew nothing of this GEASS Zero had been using – but he only nodded. “I am glad to know that you have taken such stance on the matter. I myself find it hard to believe that she could do something so horrible without any explanation."

They lapsed into a heavy silence and despite the cheerful atmosphere in the garden, Suzaku felt like he was being crushed by this tremendous weight. Or maybe it _was_ the cheerfulness which was to blame, the stark contrast it made compared to the dark reflection of his life. He was frustrated, almost irrationally angry that everything else could still look so beautiful when everything about him was so wrong.

Or maybe it was the man in his company himself. Something about the prince made him feel wary and Suzaku knew he wasn’t just imagining things when he felt this slight nudge again and again, like an invisible hand trying to steer him through the conversation. Schneizel el Britannia wanted something and it was important enough – or dangerous enough – that he had no choice but to undertake the task himself and speak with a lowly Eleven.

Suzaku didn’t like being played, not when he wasn’t aware of it and even less when he was. The black horse indeed. He almost laughed. Talking about trying to sugarcoat a rotten fish.

He couldn’t believe anyone anymore. He just couldn’t.

“A high position in the Britannian Army holds extensive authority and an incredible amount of power,” the prince suddenly spoke again, his tone casual enough to be conversational but his eyes intently watching him. “Isn’t it what you seek, Suzaku-kun?”

All of a sudden, the gentle breeze blowing around them felt more like the biting winter chill. Suzaku found that he could only stand there, speechless, staring at this calm, somewhat amused expression on the older man’s face. But of course it was easy to guess. After all, why would an Eleven go through all the humiliation he had endured to join the military if it wasn’t for something really important – something which value far exceeded his own life? Not that his life still had much value after the death of his father, but the deed should have spoken enough for itself.

It had been Euphie who had restored some of its value back, Euphie who had said that she needed him when he had been ready to throw his life away. Suddenly there was a meaning to his existence. There was hope again for him to save his homeland and protect this person who had begun to matter to him.

But it felt far now, this great notion of him saving Japan from Britannia’s oppression without resorting to killing. He was tired. He wished for nothing more but to close his eyes and just let everything roll the way they wanted to. To _hell_ if it was where they wanted to go and he wouldn’t even blink an eye.

“Why?” he raised his face and caught the other man's eyes. “There is nothing in it for Britannia.”

“In fact, there is,” the prince answered without missing a beat, but his promptness only unleashed more suspicion in Suzaku. He stared hard at the older man, disbelief clawing at his insides.

“I want the truth.”

“Then you shall have it.” The Second Prince turned around and motioned him to follow. They continued to walk down the path in silence. More and more flowers crowded both sides of the lane and the sweet fragrance was overwhelming. It made Suzaku feel lightheaded, especially under the fierce glare of the sun. He was relieved when they finally reached a flight of stone stairs and left the garden. The east wing of the villa loomed ahead, a grand white edifice that gleamed in the daylight.

He had never been in this part of the building before and the prince's brisk pace didn’t help to ease his tension. It only swelled when they went through a glass door with two guards standing at each side. Behind it was a brightly lit room with interior very much like that of an office, only decorated in a taste significantly more luxurious. Paintings hung on lavishly papered wall, many of them featuring Britannian landscape and buildings that blended only too well with the atmosphere in the room. A wide-screen television occupied one side of the wall, set opposite to a desk made out of dark-coloured wood. Suzaku tensed when he saw Euphie’s picture on the desk, encased in a beautiful silver frame, but if the prince noticed this, he said nothing. He turned the television on and suddenly, angry shouting crashed the silence in the room.

“In the last twenty-four hours, this has always been what you see in the news,” he said as Suzaku stared at the television in shock. “It is an absolute chaos out there after the incident. There are terrorist’s outbreaks everywhere and the tally of victims are increasing by the hour.”

Suzaku found himself at a loss for word, his eyes glued to these horrendous images continuously presented on the screen. People were screaming bloody murder, running on the street with either guns to shoot or poles to beat the first Britannian in sight, trampling those they had killed. There was nothing in the background but ruined buildings and the grey smoking sky. And then the scene switched to lifeless bodies in pools of blood and Knightmares hissing, exchanging blows with each other as they destroyed more and killed more.

He felt like he had plunged into a nightmare after the colourful world outside with those flowers and butterflies. But this was the real one. This wasn’t a dream.

“You must have realised, Suzaku-kun,” the prince continued, a hint of emotion in his usually composed voice, “that right now Japan hates Britannia, which is not surprising considering what happened in the Special Area. The hate is so strong, as you can see in the news, too strong for me to do anything without resorting to the worst possible option. But on the other hand, Zero has also disappeared and this, I believe, is causing great unrest among his followers.”

A surge of chill flooded Suzaku’s veins at this bit of news. “Zero has disappeared?” he repeated, his breath caught in his throat. That day in Kaminejima. Could it be that he had…?

“Yes. No one knows where he is right now, or whether he is still alive or not.”

Suzaku said nothing. After Kallen had fired that shot and he felt the bullet burn a hole in his shoulder, he remembered absolutely nothing. It was like that one time when he had disobeyed an order and let Zero escape, all without knowing what he had done.

It must be GEASS. Zero had used it on him.

But Zero… dead? For some reasons, the idea made him feel even worse than before. Zero was Euphie’s murderer, and yet…

“Japan is like a time bomb at the moment,” the prince spoke again, his even voice rising above the newscaster’s rapid commentary, “but I prefer not to see any of the sides spill more blood than they already have. And that is where you come in, Suzaku-kun. If you choose to stay with the Britannian Army, while some may perceive your decision as an act of treachery, there will be others who see it as a sign of trust. I intend to forge peace once more from that point.”

Instead of surprising him, the ‘truth’ only increased the intensity of his doubt. Even in theory, it sounded impossible. How could he, the knight of the princess who was seen as a liar and a killer – the _traitor_ , like many had called him – earned enough trust to make so big of a change?

“Will it really work?” he finally asked, sounding sceptical and yet, he had to admit, hopeful at the same time.

“Of course there is no guarantee that it will succeed,” the prince answered frankly, “but I am willing to bet. And to be fair, I am obliged to tell you that this road will be far from easy. There will always be people on both sides who either mistrust your intention or think that you have betrayed your country.”

Suzaku almost scoffed. That it would be difficult for him was really the last thing he was concerned about at the moment.

“I have no loyalty to Britannia,” he said, looking straight at icy violet eyes. It was also only fair to let the prince know about it beforehand.

“I am aware of that,” the older man replied and Suzaku wondered if he had imagined a hint of approval in that placid voice,” but neither of us wants more bloodshed and this is, as far as I can see, the best course of action to take in this situation.”

You can get your kingdom out of my country, was what Suzaku wanted to say, but he held his tongue and asked instead, “And what if I say no?”

“You will be stripped off of your title and nationality as an honorary Britannian. However, since you were my sister’s knight, I will allow you to go unharmed. What will happen if we meet again, of course, is a different story.” The Second Prince paused and for the first time ever, a slit appeared on his veneer of perpetual calmness. A solemn look settled on his face and he added with a quieter voice, “The world doesn’t wait for us, Suzaku-kun. It is merciless on the indecisive ones, but if you want to save your country and your people, then you will have to earn it with your own hands. I know that this is not easy and I wish I can give you more time to consider what I have just proposed, but in view of the situation, I need to know where your allegiance lies.”

The answer was obvious, but it sat there, staring at him as he wavered and hesitated. A part of him – a _big_ part of him – didn’t want to care anymore, but the prince’s directness actually made him feel better. It was a chance, not to redeem, never to redeem, but he still had a debt to his father he had yet to settle. And if, Suzaku shuddered, if he really had killed Zero… _Lelouch_ , then he had one more to pay.

“I don’t care what will become of myself,” he finally said, hands tightly coiled into fists at his side, “but if I can do something for Japan…” _The Japan Euphie had sacrificed her life for, the Japan he had killed his father for, the Japan Lelouch almost, almost destroyed for Nunnally’s sake…_

He took a deep breath and very, very slowly nodded. “I will stay,” he whispered, a tremor in his voice that he couldn’t quite cover, and perhaps the prince noticed it too because when he smiled, it seemed almost sympathetic

“Then I accept your service with gratitude,” he stated and motioned for Suzaku to kneel in front of him. “In the name of Schneizel el Britannia, I hereby confer the rank of a full-fledged knight on you, Major Suzaku Kururugi.”

Suzaku closed his eyes, accepting, not only the rank but also his fate. He would continue this legacy Euphie had left him and he would see it to the end or die trying.

And that was his vow.

 

\-----

 

4.

“Well, good then,” was Lloyd’s reaction when Suzaku had told him about his decision. “You are the best devicer for Lancelot I’ve found so far. It will be a pain to search for a new one.”

Suzaku had learnt not to value himself more than a piece of spare part in his superior’s presence, but it still made him feel better to accept a less Lancelot-centric response from Cecile.

“I’m so happy, Suzaku-kun,” she took his hands and squeezed them. “I was very worried when I heard that Schneizel-sama had summoned you and I really thought of the worst, like he was going to hold you responsible for what happened with…”

He could easily fill the blank, and it brought a fresh surge of pain in his chest because her dying face was still vivid in his mind. Cecile looked so guilty and miserable at her slip-up, but it was Lloyd who broke the uncomfortable silence in the end.

“He won’t do anything like that.”

No one responded to his remark, so the earl looked away from the computer screen, fixed each of them a firm look, and said adamantly, “I know him. We’re practically growing up together.”

“His Highness was very different from yesterday,” Suzaku finally admitted. “Very amiable and he treated me very nicely too. I almost decided not to accept the offer only because he was so nice that it was disturbing. But why the change?”

“Obviously there is a reason,” Lloyd answered with a shrug and returned to his computer, already losing his interest on the conversation.

Later that day, Suzaku found out that Governor General Cornelia had passed away yesterday morning.

 

\-----

 

5.

It felt like he had sat in Lancelot for years.

They had just finished another mission. Suzaku jumped down from the white Knightmare for the third time today, tired to the bone. Cecile gave him a smile and a thumbs-up from her command post and he couldn’t help but to smile back. They had succeeded to save seventeen hostages from a terrorist group and no matter what he had been telling himself, it still felt good to be able to do something like that.

Life went on. It had been three months since the funeral – two funerals – but he could still see her in his mind. Euphie, in a glass case, sleeping on a bed of white flowers, looking very beautiful and angelic. He had repeated his vow that day as he stood next to her for the last time, a fallen knight and his dead princess.

No one understood what she had done and why, most believing that it was her true colour because after all, the Emperor’s chauvinistic views were well-known throughout the world. Suzaku only shared his knowledge about GEASS with one person. He didn’t really care if the Second Prince believed him or not, but at least as the temporary Governor General of Area 11, he needed to know what they were going up against.

What greeted his determination was the fact the Oder of the Black Knight had suddenly vanished from the face of the earth. It was as if the disappearance of their leader had disintegrated the whole group. After three months of defending innocent people from probably hundreds of terrorist attacks – and none of them of the scale of the Black Knight – Suzaku was more convinced than ever that he had really killed Zero – _Lelouch_.

His friend.

After the realisation sunk in, it was surprisingly easy to believe. Only another bleak, harsh reality which had been following him everywhere his whole life. So what if he had killed his best friend? For someone who had committed patricide, surely it was nothing but another murder?

If it wasn’t for his vow to Euphie, Suzaku would have already killed himself long time ago.

Nunnally was another reason why he was still alive. He had looked for her everywhere after the Kaminejima incident, but like Lelouch, she had simply disappeared. He often thought about her, wondering whether she would forgive him if she found out about her brother’s murder, and laughing at his own foolishness afterward. Of course not. Forgiveness was for those who deserved it, not for someone who had let everyone he loved die around him.

And life, like the heartless bitch it was, went on. Silently, but mercilessly.

But time was a funny business. After three months, he couldn’t say that he had forgiven Lelouch and definitely not himself, but _something_ had changed. Slow, little things. He had not forgotten about his father or Euphie or Lelouch, but thinking about them felt different now. It was no longer the acute, burning pain, or the cold, haunting grief that made him want to reach for his gun and end his life. He would remember, the memories surfacing quietly from the crevices of his mind, and all the different sensations would be there; the happy ones – Euphie’s smiles, summer and sunflowers with Lelouch and Nunnally, a small praise from his father for his hard work; and the dark ones – Euphie with a gun on her hand, his fingers stained with his father's red warm blood, Lelouch looking at him as Zero’s mask fell from his face. They were all there and they were all his.

After three months, life wasn’t quite the bitch it had been once. He had a job to do, an oath to fulfil, and those memories of the past would be his sword and armour. He had a goal in mind, a legacy that would be his future and the future of his nation, and let it be the ideal which would keep him going. And then he had Lloyd who, albeit a little strange, would go into great lengths to ensure his safety, and Cecile who was constantly fussing over him like a big sister he never had. After what seemed to be a very long time, he felt that there was a purpose to his life again, and even if it was only a matter of unpaid debt, Suzaku didn’t think he minded.

Of course reality was often a lot worse than plans and ideals. After his decision was made known to public, accusations rained down upon him along with myriads of names. Britannia’s dog was actually one of the more polite ones and Lloyd usually had a good laugh out of some of them, but the rest were just plain cruel. Suzaku had gradually learnt to pay them as little heed as possible, although sometimes it was far easier to just sink into the guilt  and disgust and boundless misery.

His everyday life in the all-Britannian environment wasn’t easy either. His identity as an Eleven naturally created suspicion among the soldiers and officers. He hardly ever began a day without having either someone stopping him on his way to the bathroom only to give him some early-morning taunts, or another picking on him in said bathroom. Most of the times, he was able to fend them off by ignoring their insults and dodging their attacks, but it became much more difficult when they came in large numbers. The most dangerous was when such occasion escalated into a near-sexual assault and that was when Suzaku fought back with all he could

It was hell, but he had gone through worse during his military training in the academy, when he had hardly known how to fight back. He could bear with this for now. He had promised Euphie.

The Second Prince was at least right about a few things. There were some of his people who in the end believed him, particularly because the prince constantly put him under the spotlight. Everything he did was highlighted, every rescue operation, every little support, _everything_ he did for the good of Japan. Most of the times, Suzaku felt like he was playing an act, but when he saved someone, then he _was_ saving someone, and that was that. Nothing else mattered.

Suzaku climbed up to the command post where Cecile greeted him with a warm smile. “Good job, Suzaku-kun.”

“Thank you,” he nodded and took off his headset, setting it down on the table next to the panel of keyboard. “Are you still monitoring the hostages? Are they all right?”

“The medics are checking them right now, but I don’t think there is any serious injury.”

“Physically,” he mumbled and slumped down to the floor, resting his head on the railing as he closed his eyes.

“Well, yes, physically.” There was a hint of surprise in Cecile’s voice and Suzaku could almost feel her eyes on him, but he was too tired to care right now. The silence dragged on almost to an uncomfortable one until she cut it with a hesitant question. “Are you okay, Suzaku-kun?”

Suzaku opened his eyes and forced himself to give her a slight smile. “Yes, I’m just a little tired.”

The look on her face was uncertain. “I think you’re too tired. I mean, you keep doing mission after mission almost without any rest.” She frowned. “I wonder what His Highness is thinking.”

Cecile was someone who often knew more than she let on and Suzaku wondered if she actually could guess what the second prince was planning for him. Probably not. Maybe it was just her overly-concerned nature.

“I’m really okay,” he assured her. “Besides, the operation is a success and that is the important thing, right?”

She still didn’t look convinced. In fact, her frown only deepened like she was in a deep thought. “I don’t know how to put it,” she said slowly, “but I feel like you have changed, Suzaku-kun.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? How so?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know,” she sighed. “You’re just different. You used to be… more open, I guess.”

“A lot has happened, Cecile-san.”

“Well, that’s true,” she agreed, but her face retained a vaguely troubled expression. Suzaku said nothing.

She was right – there was a change. He, of all people, of course felt the change. He was slowly becoming this person his role demanded him to be. Not the naïve son of a former Prime Minister, not the idealistic Kururugi Suzaku, but a man Japan would be able to depend on for her future. And that meant he could no longer cling to his romantic notions about peace. He had to face the world, and in order to do that, he had to become strong. Unbreakable.

Some of the changes must have shown on the way he acted day by day. He glanced at Cecile. She didn’t seem willing to let go of the subject yet, so it was a great relief when the door to the hangar was opened and Lloyd unceremoniously walked in.

“We’re moving out tomorrow,” he announced in his typical, cheerful fashion.

Suzaku rose to his feet at once, his whole body tensing. “Did something happen?”

“The Chinese Federation launched an invasion on Kyushu Island this morning and His Highness the Prince wants us to go with him. Well, we’re officially under him anyway,” Lloyd shrugged and sat on his usual chair. “Oh, and Suzaku-kun, he wants you in his office right now.”

“Me?”

“We have a surprise for you,” the older man gave him a wink, “but I’ll let him break the news to you himself, so hurry up and go.”

Suzaku left the hangar with a big question mark in his head and no little apprehension. The prince was, as far as he knew, the only Britannian who didn’t treat him like trash besides Lloyd and Cecile, but he had only spoken to him twice after their ‘deal’. Suzaku had learnt to respect him from what little that he knew, but the prospect of meeting the imperial still made him feel uneasy.

To the world, it might seem like he was being used by Britannia, but Suzaku realised that he in fact owed the imperial almost everything. One of the reasons why he could recapture the heart of some of his people was an announcement made by the prince concerning the incident in the Special Area, that the incident had been engineered by Zero. Schneizel didn’t mention GEASS and used the word ‘hypnosis’ instead, which of course was far more believable in this case.

The most prevalent reaction was to think that it was a lie, a dirty trick done in Zero’s absence. Nevertheless, the seed of doubt had been sown and the counterattack had begun. That the leader of the Black Knight had never come forward and publicly denied the accusation was also a great help to foster the doubt.

In the end, what they had was a fair trade. He had his chance to climb the military ladder and Britannia could win, slow though the process was, Japan’s trust back. Suzaku knew that the prince had met a heavy opposition over his decision to let an Eleven stay in the Britannian Army, and it was this knowledge which assured him, despite his earlier prejudices against the prince. They probably did not have the same goal, but they certainly could work together if it was evident that cooperation would help to smooth the way.

The Governor-General's office was located at the other end of the building. There were two soldiers standing on guard in front of the door when he arrived. Both gave him a look that could only be described as condescending, but one of them proceeded to open the door and announce his arrival.

The prince  was sitting behind his gigantic desk, speaking to the phone and tapping a finger on the dark mahogany surface. He looked up when his guard opened the door and waved for Suzaku to come in. The conversation ended about a minute later and it was only then when he addressed the younger man.

“Has Earl Asplund told you about the invasion, Suzaku-kun?” he wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then I shall come straight to the point. I want you to lead the vanguard when we launch a counterattack.”

Suzaku still had enough presence of mind to acknowledge that his superior had really spoken the truth. It was indeed a surprise, even if he would rather call it an ‘utterly unexpected, mind-boggling, heart-attack-inducing shock’.

“I, Sir?” he breathed out.

The prince nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

Thousands of reasons why he should not do it popped up in his mind. “But I…”

“The soldiers will obey your order, so do not let such thought trouble your mind,” the older man said calmly, as if he could read Suzaku's list of doubts. “I have seen your performance during the last few weeks and I tam fairly confident that you are the right person for the task. Do you think you can live up to my expectations?”

Suzaku couldn’t find his voice for a long time. He recognised that it was a chance. The prince was literally handing him the chance to prove himself. And it was a big feat. He would defend a part of Japan from foreign invasion – well, he _was_ in a foreign army himself, but it was the only way he could protect Japan at the moment. The effect would be immense.

But despite the prince's assurance, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. The troop under his command would look at him and scoff. They would second-guess his judgments. Even worse, they might disobey his orders and thus kill themselves or endanger others. And even worse still, he might make the wrong decision which would kill them all and Japan would have to take the blame because one of her sons had caused the death of many Britannians. Could he bear the burdens and really do it?

Suzaku felt a wry smile that didn't quite reach his lips. Of course he could.

“Yes, Sir,” he answered firmly.

A hint of a smile appeared on the prince’s face. “Then show me that you are worthy of my trust, Major.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

\-----

 

6.

In the end, they won the first battle.

With difficulty. And blood, sweat, and tears. And lives.

Suzaku found himself trembling as he sat on the dusty ground under Lancelot’s shadow, the setting sun painting everything around him in red or gold. His surrounding was a picture of destruction, swarmed by the very core of its destructors. Knightmares were everywhere, their pilots crowding the empty field as Avalon gleamed in the distance.

Suzaku closed his eyes and buried his head in the crook of his arm, swallowing back his sobs and tears. Leading was much more difficult than he had anticipated. He had to think not only for himself but also for the whole company under his command. He had to consider every attack, every response, and basically every move they made. The worst part was probably because he knew exactly how many of his men had died and a part of him hated the fact that he did. He could still hear their last scream echoing in Lancelot’s cockpit before they were blown into pieces.

And he couldn’t save them.

The prince had advised not to let the thought weigh on his conscience too much – it was always the vanguard who suffered the hardest blows – and Suzaku wished that he could believe that and deal with it in the same casual manner expected of him. Instead, he only felt the number of his debt increasing and this old pain, like a wound long since healed being ripped open again.

Suzaku wiped his eyes and leant back to Lancelot, taking as much comfort as he could from the solid presence. He knew he would get over it eventually. He must. He still had a lot to do.

A low murmur had risen from a group of pilots who had formed a circle in the middle of the field. Suzaku glanced around and noticed the weary faces. Everyone was exhausted. This was the first base they had managed to conquer after almost twenty days of fighting. A hard-earned victory, but also a valuable one. It should be easier from now on, as long as they could defend the base.

“For you, Commander.”

Along with the gruff voice, a bottle of water suddenly appeared under his nose. Suzaku looked up in surprise and found a young woman with short flaming hair looking down at him with a pained expression. She was one of the pilots assigned under him, but the reason why she had suddenly seen it fit to speak to him outside the battlefield was still lost on Suzaku. It took him a long moment to relocate his voice or formulate any kind of response at all.

“Thank you,” he took the bottle and tried an uncertain smile. “Barton, isn’t it?”

“Claire is okay,” she told him stiffly, and then asked with an even stiffer voice, “Can I sit here?”

To say that he was astonished would be the understatement of the year, but Suzaku remembered to answer quickly, “Sure.”

The young woman sat down in front of him and he waited, trepidation starting to shadow his astonishment. Usually, this would be followed by a prank or some sort of harassment they had designed specifically for him. Or maybe it was the drink. Suzaku was actually waiting for the bottle in his hand to blow up or do something more drastic when Claire suddenly broke the silence.

“You don’t look like a Japanese, you know.”

He noticed how she took care not to use the word ‘Eleven’ and felt another smile on his lips. “I guess it’s my eyes.”

Her honey brown ones shone like gold under the evening sun as she continued to scrutinize him. “But are you really?”

“Yes.”

She hmm-ed but said nothing and they once more fell into silence. Suzaku wasn’t sure what to make out of it. Those who had been assigned under him generally didn’t like the appointment. Outside the battlement, their attitude toward him was cold at best or downright hostile at worst. However, a battle was a battle and once the first shot had been fired, it was simply too hectic for anyone to even begin thinking to disobey him. For that, he was at least grateful.

Suzaku noticed that some of his subordinates were looking curiously at him now, not with as much hate as they usually displayed. It made him feel a little hopeful. Who knows, perhaps the prince was right. Perhaps he wasn’t too bad as a leader. Perhaps this impossible plan really worked after all.

Suddenly Claire made a hissing noise and scrambled to her feet, an action which made Suzaku look at her in surprise. Following her gaze, he saw that the Second Prince was walking toward them, followed by two of his generals, and quickly followed suit. It was only then when he realised that a different kind of silence had settled over the field. Everybody was already on their feet, watching the unfolding scene with various degrees of astonishment as their lord stopped in front of him, a little smile softening the hard lines around his face.

“Well done, Suzaku-kun,” the prince said, his smooth voice filling the odd silence like the gentle tinkling of silver bells. “You completely exceed my expectation. I must say that I’m very impressed.”

Suzaku thought about the lives he couldn’t save but swallowed his bitterness and only answered, “Thank you, milord.”

Because even though there was contempt on the other officers’s faces, the Second Prince smiled at him, commending his performance, and the rest of the company saw it.

 

\-----

 

7.

There were moments in his life when a realisation came to him like a bolt from the blue and at the next second, Suzaku would feel very, very stupid because it should have been obvious. The time when Euphie had confessed to him had been one of them.

This moment was similar. Suzaku knew that he could fight reasonably well, but as he watched his tenth or so challenger limping back to his group of sullen-looking Britannians, it suddenly hit him that he was probably one of the best fighters there was.

The training ground was quieter than a graveyard. Every pair of eyes was on him as he stood in the middle of the ground, feeling very self-conscious with the amount of attention he had attracted from his fellow soldiers. It had begun as an ordinary training day, and suddenly someone stepped forward and challenged him into a fight – _gentlemanly spar_ , as he put it. But Suzaku recognised hate when he was faced with one and this was immense loathing which was staring back at him. There had been dissatisfaction whispered everywhere since he had been appointed to command the vanguard. Apparently someone just couldn’t take it anymore and decided to straighten things up.

And so he had accepted. Everything simply went awry after that.

A second challenger came forward immediately after he had defeated the first. And then a third, fourth, fifth and so on. Suzaku was actually expecting an eleventh challenger – or was it the twelfth? – when he realised that he almost couldn’t stand on his feet anymore.

Having learned karate and judo since he had been no more than a little boy of four taught him to hold on. He couldn’t collapse in front of them – it would be a victory trodden and tarnished. Instead, he looked around, barely noticing the astonished, awestruck, even frightened look on the faces around him, and his eyes fell on Claire who was standing at a corner with some of her friends. There was an unreadable expression on their faces and had he been a Britannian, Suzaku was certain that it would have been respect.

But no one came forward again. Heavy and solid, the silence continued without interruption. Suzaku inwardly sighed in relief. Carefully avoiding anyone’s eyes, he walked to the entrance, both feet trembling so badly that it was simply a miracle he could make it to the door without falling. He exited the training ground and slumped to the grey wall after the door had swung shut behind him. Suzaku closed his eyes, feeling them burning with unshed tears, and hugged himself tightly. He could do this. Just a little more. They would open their arms for him eventually.

“You are very good, Suzaku-kun.”

The voice made his heart stop beating for a moment. He whipped his head up rapidly and felt his entire body going cold at the sight of the Second Prince standing in front of him, one hand resting on the sill of a large window which provided a clear view to the training ground. Suzaku quickly straightened up and bowed slightly, fighting against an instinct to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Your Highness.”

The prince must have noticed his tears, but he said nothing and only looked at the window and the ground beyond, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Are they satisfied?”

Suzaku remembered the disgruntled look, the disbelief etched on the face of his opponents, and felt cold bitterness rising in his chest. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just trying to deceive his pitiful self that everything would turn out okay.

“I don’t know, Sir,” he replied, sounding much less depressed than he actually felt.

The older man was frowning slightly when he returned his gaze to him. “You could have lost. They could have kept challenging you until you were too exhausted to put up a fight and forced to surrender. That is if they give you a chance to surrender.”

Suzaku found himself shaking his head stubbornly. “I must win,” he said, firm and determined even though his voice was still smeared with exhaustion. He had realised since second one that it was a dangerous gamble. Being an Asian, his stature was smaller than most and his first challenger actually had a body almost twice as big. But then again his forte had always been speed and balance, not sheer physical power. If he had backed out from the challenge, what little respect he had managed to garner up till now would have been utterly worthless.

“You must,” the words were spoken slowly, almost contemplatively. “Yes, of course.”

A commotion rose inside the training ground. Suzaku thought he heard Claire’s voice amidst so many others but he couldn’t afford a look while the other man was still standing there. The prince, on the other hand, seemed completely uninterested with what was happening at the other side of the glass and said instead, “We should cross blades sometimes, Suzaku-kun. Were you trained in fencing?”

The question managed to make Suzaku forget about his exhaustion entirely. “I, Sir?” he was flabbergasted. “I wasn’t– I mean, well yes, of course… but I’m not very good in it. In fact, I think I’m the worst fencer in the world.”

“Really?” the prince sounded amused. “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

A very unfamiliar feeling of embarrassment washed over him and Suzaku quickly looked down, feeling the heat on his cheeks. To stand there blushing in front of an imperial was one of the worst scenarios he could think of, but for some reason, he could not stop himself. The painful silence continued until a gloved finger touched his chin, tilting his face up to look at solemn violet eyes.

“Look at your opponents straight in the eye, Suzaku-kun. It will win you the first round if nothing else.”

Suzaku was at a complete loss for words. He could only stare blankly as the hand drew back and returned to the prince’s side. “You should consider about accepting my challenge,” the older man told him, already turning to leave. “It will allow them to see how much respect I actually have for you.”

Maybe it would, but when the prince disappeared down the corridor, all he could think of was the tingling sensation left on his chin.

 

\-----

 

8.

They had a major victory.

Suzaku mentally shook his head and looked around, smiling as he did so. It was a total understatement. They had the mother of all victories, an amazing, utterly unbelievable, should-be-impossible-because-they-were-fighting-a-battle-for-God’s-sakes-and-yet-it-didn’t-claim-a-single-casualty victory.

Everything around him was a picture of celebration. The mess was filled with officers and soldiers of all ranks, sitting at the long tables, smiling, drinking, singing, laughing. Because although they were fighting in a war and it was their duty to make sure that their enemy did not win, not to kill had always been better. They could wallow in their victory and didn’t have to think of any fallen comrade or even enemy. Tonight, they didn’t have to bear the cross all soldiers bore.

Not everyone could appreciate the genius of the plan at first. As a matter of fact, it had seemed weak, almost cowardly, and when the orders had come to them, the general sentiment was reluctance, even aversion. But they had learned to trust their prince and in the end, a carefully-planned stratagem once more proved its overwhelming merits compared to mindless brute force. Not a drop of blood had been spilled and it made everyone, down to the lowest-rank soldiers, very immensely proud. Suzaku wasn’t sure that there was anyone happier than him in the room, even if he was sitting at the end of one table alone, watching the merriment around him silently.

For the first time since a very long time, he found someone that he could trust again – or at least start to. It was a little strange considering that he had spent the beginning of their relationship suspecting every bit of the man’s possibly hidden motives.

It had changed now. Euphie once more had been right.

“Commander!”

Suzaku looked up, alarmed, as a red-faced Claire Barton put one giant mug filled with bubbling, honey-coloured liquid in front of him. Her other hand held an almost empty one, which might explain why she looked slightly inebriated.

“What are you doing drinking _that_?” she demanded, throwing a disgusted look to his cup of coffee, and shoved the giant mug to his direction. “This is the stuff you should be drinking.”

Suzaku refrained from reminding her that he was only seventeen years old – or maybe she didn’t know that? – and smiled politely at her. “Thank you, Claire, but I don’t drink.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why not? This is your victory.”

“It was thanks to you all. I only–“

“I don’t care. Drink,” she shoved the mug again, spilling some of the content, and looked around to the guffawing mob crowding their table. Suzaku could already feel that something terrible was about to happen when she suddenly hollered to the crowd, “Everyone! What say you if I challenge our commander to a drinking game??”

If Suzaku was not so excessively horrified by this suggestion, he might realise that for the first time in history, an announcement which involved him was not met with total silence. In fact, the reaction was instantaneous and irrefutably enthusiastic.

“Beat him, Claire!”

“Hear, hear!”

“Show him what it takes to be a man!”

And definitely drunk.

Suzaku found himself immediately flanked from all directions, sharp whistling and excited clapping ringing in his ears. Glasses were pushed into his hands and Jacques Sedgwick, a young man in the beginning of his twenties with long dark hair tied behind his back, had climbed onto the table and appointed himself the referee of the contest. By now, almost everyone had noticed the commotion and crowded around them. Claire was grinning at him from across the table and despite knowing that there was no chance in hell he could get away from this disaster, Suzaku found himself returning the grin.

It felt good to see that someone finally smiled at him again and discover that he could smile back. In fact, he felt so elated that it almost didn’t scare him to see mugs filled with the same golden liquid lined up in front of him and his challenger.

Almost.

“On the count of three,” Jacques declared, his boisterous voice overriding every other sound in the mess. Suzaku felt his heart sinking into his stomach when they began the countdown, his fingers cold and white from gripping the nearest mug too tightly. He had to at least show a brave face and put up a fight. The rest could wait until he knew he could come out alive from this entire mess.

And the contest started. Suzaku had no choice but to bring the mug to his lips and took a swallow. He was expecting the slightly bitter tang of beer, but once the liquid hit his tongue, he knew that it was something far, far worse. His first reaction was to throw them all up, but the whistling and laughing all around him made him think twice. Suzaku closed his eyes, fighting against all of his instincts as he forced his stomach to calm down, and took another sip. He only wanted to impress his comrades and this was the chant he kept repeating to himself as the bitter liquid burned his throat again and again.

Somehow, he managed to finish his first mug. There were hands patting him on the back and this was all the encouragement he needed to reach for a second one. But instead of getting used to the taste, Suzaku almost choked when the awful drink filled his mouth once more. In a small, distant corner of his mind, he remembered a New Year party long time ago when he and his cousins had managed to get their hands on a bottle of sake. They, of course, had found it bitter and unpleasant, but Suzaku felt that it was infinitely better than whatever he was trying to swallow right now.

Claire was gulping down her fourth glass when he finally reached for the next one. And then the next. And the next. He barely tasted it anymore. The crowd around them was now pounding the table, yelling things his muddled mind couldn’t quite comprehend. He must be getting drunk. His head was starting to spin when his fingers sought for another glass almost automatically. The room was suddenly too bright. Jacques was riling up everyone, his voice booming in the background. Claire had a white moustache above her lips, or maybe he was only seeing things. His sight was getting hazy. And he couldn’t think anymore.

It felt like centuries until he realised that the crowd had started to count again. When they reached ‘one!’ he slumped to the table, amidst empty glasses and loud cheering and clapping and many other sounds that pierced his ears like a lance. Suzaku knew he had lost, but he was laughing because these faces around him were laughing and it made him feel incredibly, unreasonably, wonderfully happy. There was someone – or maybe a couple of someone's – ruffling his hair, throwing their arms around him, giving his back several manly pats, and suddenly he didn’t care that he was in this half-sober state. Across the table, Claire was trying to give a theatrical bow to the spectators, but she seemed to have some trouble with balance and collapsed back onto the bench, laughing hysterically.

“I knew you had it in you,” she declared, pointedly looking at the empty mugs before him. “But too bad your opponent was me. I’m the best drinker in the company.”

This declaration was immediately greeted with various kinds of protests. Suzaku found himself clapping and cheering with everyone else when Claire issued a challenge to Jacques, one of the loudest protesters. Warmth swelled in his stomach and probably it had something to do with the amount of alcohol he had consumed, but he liked to think that it was something else.

“Major Kururugi.”

The voice, clear and sharp amidst the noises all around him, made Suzaku look up. Through the thick haze in his mind, he could recognise a soldier whom he had repeatedly seen standing on guard in front of the Governor-General’s office. The man was looking at him disdainfully and it made him sober up a little, aware of the impression he must be making – quite obviously drunk when he wasn’t even of age.

“His Highness the Prince is expecting you in the office,” the soldier said, his tone aloof and positively unfriendly, and  then added with unconcealed malice, “Right now if you are capable of it.”

It felt like the ceiling had suddenly crashed down on him. Suzaku gaped at the soldier who by now had left the area with a scoff. He couldn’t possibly meet the prince in this condition, heavily intoxicated and irresponsibly so, and yet when he looked around for help, no one else seemed to share his panic. Some were shaking their head in pity – smiling nonetheless – as the rest expressed their sympathy by either grinning or laughing. Claire, for example, was smirking at him from across the table.

“You really have the worst luck in the world, Commander,” she told him. Suzaku only glared at her as he rose to his feet, and quickly found out that they weren’t working as they were supposed to. If it wasn’t for Jacques, he would have ended up on the floor in a potentially humiliating position.

Leaving a sniggering crowd behind him, he headed to the nearest bathroom. Unfortunately, a few splashes of water did very little to help him sober up. His brain still felt like a bundle of yarn he couldn’t possibly unravel no matter what. He could barely walk straight, let alone fabricate any reason which he undoubtedly would have to give to the prince about his less-than-presentable condition. How he eventually managed to find his way to the office was also a mystery.

There was a half-surprised, half-amused look on the older man’s face when he had arrived and almost stumbled on the carpet. “I must have interrupted your celebration,” he said mildly.

“No, Sir– I mean… yes, Sir– I wasn’t…” Suzaku was so close to screaming in frustration because he was unable to think of _anything_ to say. Fortunately, the prince took pity on him.

“Have a seat, Suzaku-kun,” he waved to the direction of the couches. “You may want to hear what I am about to say sitting down.”

Embarrassed but relieved, he mumbled a small ‘thank you’. However, the relief also made him forget for a moment that his ability to coordinate his brain and the rest of his body to execute a simple movement was currently unavailable. His feet tripped one another and he fell face-first to the floor.

But he never hit the carpet. Suzaku blinked a few times and then realised – in _horror_ – that the black-striped-with-gold fabric he was clutching was actually the trimming of the prince’s long coat. He looked up, finding the older man looking at him with an unreadable expression, and felt what was left of his dignity falling apart.

“Your Highness–“

The rest of the sentence never left his mouth.

 

\-----

 

9.

Suzaku knew the he was slowly but surely going mad.

He had woken up in his room this morning with the most painful headache which had ever graced his seventeen years of existence and absolutely no recollection at all of what had happened the previous night. He had spent half of his morning retching in the bathroom and the rest sitting on his bed, repelling lots of unhealthy urges to either pound his head on the wall or shout at the empty room. But there were moments when he was very close to giving in, because he couldn’t seem to remember anything past the point where the prince had put a hand on the back of his neck and kissed him.

Kissed him.

This was the thought which had accompanied him throughout the day – during training, meals, conversations, and simply every activity he had that day. It was frustrating, and with the headache from his hangover, it made his day thoroughly unbearable. The headache wore off sometimes after lunch, but the other problem unfortunately, did not.

Later that day, he found out that he had been promoted – _Colonel_ Kururugi, as Claire had started to call him since she had been assigned as one of his lieutenants. This announcement inevitably brought him back to the events on the night before and the questions which had been stubbornly following them.

_Did it really happen?_

_Why did it happen?_

_Why didn’t he remember anything?_

_Did anything else happen?_

And the last but not least: _why, for the sake of everything holy, hasn’t the prince said anything to him until now?_

Which landed him squarely in the middle of a new set of questions. _Is he angry? Or is it because the action was purely spontaneous and now is regarded as a mistake? Will it change anything between them? Will it jeopardize his goal and Japan? Is he supposed to look for the prince and ask? Is kissing a prince a mistake? Why the hell these things are bothering him anyway?_

He had never had this trouble with Euphie. And, oh God, he was comparing the prince to Euphie.

Yes, he was going mad.

 

\-----

 

10.

“You’re okay, Colonel?”

Suzaku winced. “Claire, the title please.”

“You’re my boss,” she pointed out, using the same bluntness she had always used on every other subject even when they were only walking to the mess for lunch – like now.

“No, your ‘boss’ is Schneizel-sama,” he answered and tried not to flinch when the name fell from his mouth. “I’m only your commanding officer and we’re not on duty right now. So please. The title.”

“But…” she hesitated and he thought that it was the first time he had ever seen her hesitating, “I don’t… well, I mean, I don’t know what to call you.”

Suzaku looked at the young woman in surprise and realised guiltily that he indeed had never heard her calling him by name. It had always been ‘commander’ or ‘colonel’ or ’sir’. Claire had a way of addressing him with honorary titles that still made it sound friendly and informal, which was probably why he hadn’t noticed until now.

“Suzaku is fine,” he told her with a little smile.

“Okay,” she nodded but with obvious reluctance. Suzaku made a mental note to speak with Jacques, his other lieutenant, later about this topic. The older man had gone ahead to the mess for an early lunch since it would be his turn to oversee the Knightmare training this afternoon.

“So, Suzaku,” Claire spoke again, sounding strained when she used his name, “is there anything on your mind?”

He glanced at the redhead, suddenly wary. “What do you mean?”

“You seem distracted these past few days. In case there’s something,” she flailed a hand around, looking uncomfortable, “you know, I can help with or… whatever.”

_Well, you see, about a week ago, our boss kissed me, or at least that’s what I remember. The problem is, I haven’t seen him again since and I’m starting to think that he’s avoiding me._

Obviously he couldn’t give her that answer, so Suzaku settled with, “It’s nothing. I’m just not used to the new responsibilities yet.”

“You’re not thinking about those Purist bastards, are you?” she demanded, anger suddenly flashing in her brown eyes. “They’re cowards and all they say are crap. You deserve the promotion. Even His Highness said so.”

Suzaku smiled at her.

_Only he isn’t talking to me right now._

 

\-----

 

11.

The night was cold.

Suzaku inhaled the cool air deeply, his eyes watching the night sky which was littered by countless white twinkling dots. Amidst them, a pale crescent moon was glimmering, casting a soft light on his dark surrounding. It reminded him to a summer night many years ago. He had been spending his summer holiday in his grandparents’s house and it had been the first time he had ever seen so many stars at once. It was even more beautiful than a planetarium because he could hear the hum of the cicadas and feel light summer breeze on his skin.

Here, in the battlefield, it was nowhere as romantic as that, but he hadn’t seen a sight like this for so long. Electricity and artificial lights usually shadowed the stars into obscurity save for a few select ones. The only reason why they didn’t now was because this part of the island had been deserted by its inhabitants. The only source of light for many miles around was their current base and the Avalon.

Suzaku felt his eyes involuntarily wander to the majestic ship. It was a very conspicuous shooting target, especially in this kind of dark setting, but the Chinese Federation had learnt through a bitter experience that it was futile to attempt a long-range attack on the ship. Lloyd had designed a mechanism which would automatically create a shield to protect the ship at the first sign of attack. However, the shield was only good for dealing with missiles and their kinds. A night raid posed a different threat.

It was the reason why he was still out here in the middle of the night, sitting in Lancelot. Patrolling was necessary, and because they didn’t have enough manpower right now, particularly considering the size of the area they had to cover, Suzaku had volunteered, which in turn made every officer working under him also submit their names. And of course after lseeing this, the rest of the officers couldn’t just stand idly by.

He, along with Jacques and a few others, got the first shift tonight. After finishing his usual round, Suzaku had decided to enjoy the silence for a moment. Being with Lancelot could always calm him somehow and he _had_ , for the first few minutes, enjoyed the silence. What he hadn't taken into account was the fact that silence would also allow many kinds of thoughts to invade his mind and thus disrupt the hard-earned peace.

It was just unbelievable. He was in the middle of a war and yet the thought which occupied a large portion of his mind all the time was something entirely irrelevant.

The kiss.

Which might explain why he had been touching his lips. Suzaku quickly dropped his hand, embarrassment warm on his cheeks. It had been almost three weeks since that night, but he was nowhere near getting over it – if it indeed could be called that. He had met the prince a few times, in briefings and meetings, sometimes in the corridors of Avalon. As far as he could see, there was no noticeable change of attitude toward him. His smile was always ready, his tone genial, and his eyes remained the closed window which Suzaku could never get past.

Maybe it really had been just a dream. Maybe instead of going to the prince’s office, he had ended up in his own room and fallen asleep. It was certainly a possibility, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to accept this theory. He might have been drunk, but that kiss…

That was his first kiss. Ever.

Suzaku bit his lips in irritation and leant back to the headrest. It was foolish and sentimental to care about something like that. It shouldn’t have mattered. He had done things far less innocent over the course of his life, including allowing himself to be sexually violated again and again for a goal which at that time had seemed totally unattainable. It hadn’t stopped him from trying or made him back down. So why should this one – a kiss, one taken during a moment of intoxication no less – matter?

“Colonel, our time’s up.” Jacques’s voice suddenly echoed through the radio, almost making Suzaku jump. He glanced at his watch – it was 23.32 – and quickly slid his seat back into the cockpit.

“Copy that,” he answered to the line. “The next group should be already moving out. Make sure everyone have arrived safely to the hangar before you left. I will return to Avalon.”

“Yes, Sir.”

After finishing his instructions to Jacques, he navigated Lancelot back to the mother ship. Lloyd had insisted keeping Lancelot under his nose and although Suzaku disliked this special treatment, he didn’t really have any say in the matter. Besides, he owed the earl too much to start going against his orders again. Not only Lloyd had forgiven him so quickly after his last act of insubordination, Suzaku knew very well that he wouldn’t have gotten this far in such short span of time if he hadn’t been given a chance to try Lancelot in the first place.

The ship was silent when he arrived, almost like it was sleeping. The only sound his ears detected was the low hum made by the basic machinery. Neither Lloyd nor Cecile was in sight, so he assumed they had gone to bed – together or not was debatable, but Suzaku had his suspicions. He jumped down from Lancelot and smiled at the white Knightmare before leaving the hangar.

This was his plan for the rest of the night: climbing up to his bed, meditating for half-an-hour or more, and then going to sleep. He didn’t have ‘bumping into a wandering prince’ anywhere in his list, so when it happened out of the blue after he rounded a corner, Suzaku was once more caught unprepared.

“Suzaku-kun,” the Second Prince said in surprise, one hand outstretched to hold his arm steady.

“Your Highness.” Suzaku felt his face burning again. He couldn’t believe his bad luck. One would think that it was humiliating enough to pass out in the prince’s presence, but no, he _had to_ bump into said prince to complete the set. One thing led to another and suddenly he remembered the kiss and of course then he had to look away. This man – and the kiss – made him think of things someone shouldn’t be thinking about a prince. The warm fingers on his arm didn’t help, but fortunately they withdrew a moment later.

“From your night patrol?” The older man’s voice was as smooth and imperturbable as always.

“Yes,” Suzaku murmured faintly. He couldn’t bring himself to look up – not with a face like that – but then realised that he had been blocking the way and quickly stepped aside. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

There was a moment of silence, during which Suzaku fully expected the prince to get the hint and leave him there alone. It was why he was taken completely by surprise when he felt hands on his shoulders, driving him to the wall, and a pair of lips on his own, kissing him roughly.

He hardly fought the other man at all. Suzaku knew that this was what he had been wanting all along the moment those lips touched his, and _God_ , didn’t it feel good to be kissed and touched and _needed_ again after so long.

The next thing he knew was a soft bed and a firm body, both pressed against him as the rest of the world faded into the dull, colourless background.

 

\-----

 

12.

“Are you okay, Colonel?”

Suzaku fought an urge to sigh into his breakfast and only gave the man sitting in front of him an irritated look. “Jacques–“

“All right, _Suzaku_ ,” the lieutenant interrupted with a cheeky grin, showing bits of toast between his teeth. “You’re so anal sometimes, you know that?”

He smiled slightly. “So I’ve been told.”

“You look pale,” Jacques continued, pointing at his face with a careless wave of a half-eaten buttered toast, and suddenly stopped munching. “Those Purist bastards aren’t going at it again, are they?”

Suzaku shot him a suspicious look. “Have you been talking to Claire?”  
  
The lieutenant raised his eyebrows. “I’ve been talking to her everyday since we were assigned together under you.”

“A fair point,” he mumbled and couldn’t help a pained wince when a little shifting made some part at his rear prickle uncomfortably. Jacques was still looking inquiringly at him, so he added, “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

The older man grinned in a way that made Suzaku feel like he had said something wrong. “Coming from someone else, it usually means he was getting laid last night,” he snickered, “but since this is you, I bet it’s something boring like books or war strategies.”

Suzaku only smiled noncommittally.

_If only that was true._

 

\-----

 

13.

It didn’t stop.

He stared at the screen of his computer as the message appeared, stark white against his dark-blue desktop. It only contained two words: _Eleven o’clock._

All of a sudden, an impulse to slam his fist into the screen ambushed him. He didn’t have to be a total genius to decipher the message – and discover its implications. So far, there had been five similar messages arriving on his computer. Not every night, but it was sufficient to say that he had slept with Prince Schneizel El Britannia five times in the last three weeks.

Suzaku took off his uniform jacket and flung it to the bed, anger coursing in his veins. He felt like he was being treated like some common whore. He knew that the first time had been a mistake, a result of frustration on both parts, and he definitely hadn’t expected a repeat performance. Apparently, the prince had a different idea.

The real question was why. Was it something as simple as corporeal needs? Or something much more complicated? It wasn’t as if the other possibility had never occurred to him. After working under the prince for a few months, he realised that Schneizel el Britannia was a brilliant tactician. Perhaps it was arrogant of him to think that the older man would go as far as that only to make sure that he stayed at Britannia’s side, but Suzaku couldn’t figure out any other reason.

Maybe it was really corporeal needs.

Suzaku fell to the bed and buried his face in the pillow. He had considered not showing up at the requested hour many, many times, either out of desire to spite _His Highness_ or simply because this wasn’t something he should be doing. But it was also where the tricky part reared its ugly head. He was not sure if his disobedience wouldn’t affect anything else and he didn’t know the prince well enough to be able to answer this question.

He could ask Lloyd, yes, but Suzaku would rather shoot himself first.

So far, nothing had changed. He was still a colonel of the Britannian Army, the pilot of Lancelot, and Schneizel was still the Second Prince and the commander of the entire fleet. Maybe it was impossible to be completely unaffected, but Suzaku had tried his best to appear normal in front of others. As far as he could see, the older man also had no trouble in that department.

Everything was different past the bedroom door.

The prince was an incredible lover, Suzaku had to admit, and he certainly treated him far gentler than any of those Britannians in his past experiences had. Sometimes it made him think if it was the reason why this thing between them didn’t freak him out. Compared to his days in the military academy, what he had now was pure heaven – if he didn’t take the way he was expected to be ready for every beck and call anytime into account. It provided him with an easy way to release the tension and strain of war on him, or they would be too much.

And he would be lying if he said that he didn’t crave the touch, the momentary bit of pain, and then the following waves of pleasure, deep and intensely satisfying. He could see them mirrored in hazed blue eyes and the pale colour would darken when the prince climaxed inside him. Suzaku found himself wanting it more and more after each occasion, almost like he was getting addicted.

He suppressed a shudder. It was a scary thought.

 

\-----

 

14.

The atmosphere was tense in the meeting room. Suzaku stood at one corner, trying to glean as much information as he could from the nervous conversations going on around him. For once, the generals and their lieutenants were not making an effort to ignore him. They were too absorbed in their topic to spare him as much as a sneer.

On a large screen which was positioned on the east side of the room, there was a map of Kyushu Island, zoomed in a few times until it was possible to see the terrain clearly. What puzzled him were the red dots covering almost the entire west part of the island. Blue indicated Britannia’s army, which meant that red was the Chinese Federation. But it was impossible. No one could gather and transport in that many troops without them noticing until now.

Silence fell in the room when the Second Prince entered with a brisk pace, a frown on his handsome face. Everybody rose to their feet at once and those who already had, stood straighter.

“Explain the situation,” the prince ordered once he had assumed his seat on the end of the long table. One of the generals stepped closer to him and a three-dimensional map of the territory appeared on the table.

“Your Highness, enemy reinforcements have arrived at the west coast of the island,” the general said and as he spoke, little red dots appeared on the map. “The bulk of their force has just arrived about two or three hours ago, but from what we can see, they are now preparing an attack toward our main fleet. Our estimation is that the attack will occur in another two hours.”

“The size of the reinforcements?”

A dark look passed across the general’s face. “Approximately thrice as many as ours.”

The frown on the prince’s face deepened and his eyes moved to an officer who was standing to his right and sweating profusely. “How was it possible that this information just reached me ten minutes ago?”

A heavier silence ensued as everyone waited for an answer. From his standing place, Suzaku could see the white-faced officer opening and closing his mouth a few times, as if trying to figure out an answer which would lessen the prince’s wrath on him and yet unable to find one. Seeing this, Schneizel waved his hand impatiently.

“Never mind. I will address the matter again later. For now, I have a plan,” he announced and his blue eyes fell on Suzaku, “but for that I will need your help, Suzaku-kun.”

Every single eye in the room flew to his direction. Suzaku chose to ignore them and quickly stepped forward, listening as the prince began his explanation. Basically, he would have to disrupt the enemy force and create chaos by rapidly attacking their line and moving away quickly to the next once he had wreaked enough havoc. Taking down some of the commanders would be enough, the older man told him, his finger moving from one point to another and then another on the map. These troops had just arrived and they were not quite prepared yet. This could be their chance.

By the end of the explanation, everyone was staring at the prince like he had gone mad.

“You and Lancelot are the only one who can do this,” Schneizel said calmly, unperturbed by the shock painted so palpably on his officers’s faces. “You may bring one or two of your men if you want, but I advise against it. You will be able to move faster alone and have no need to worry yourself unnecessarily over others. Not to mention, if our enemy sees one soldier single-handedly destroying their troops, the effect to their morale will be immense.”

For a long moment, Suzaku could only gaze blankly at the prince. Somewhere to his left, one of the generals opened her mouth in protest. “Your Highness, this is madness! Your plan may work hypothetically, but no one can do something like this for real!”

A little smile appeared on the prince’s face. “Can you, Suzaku-kun?”

There was no other answer he could give. His hands tightening into fists, Suzaku bowed slightly and said, “Yes, Your Highness.”

 

\-----

 

15.

What he hadn’t realised was how dangerous the plan actually was. He had expected it to be difficult – and near impossible – but he hadn’t realised how close he had come to taking death’s hand until he descended from Lancelot after two days of nonstop fighting and was greeted by tears running down Cecile’s face. A little behind her, Lloyd smiled at him, but for once it didn’t seem so bright and cheerful – although it might be the effect of seeing Lancelot’s condition, which was evidently worse than him.

The rest of the day was a blur to him. His entire body felt worn-out and his mind was almost numb. When Claire, Jacques and the others came and bombarded him with congratulations and ‘how the hell did you do that’s, he only had enough strength to smile tiredly at them, his entire concentration wrapped on the attempt to stay awake.

But Suzaku remembered one moment when he looked up and saw the Second Prince at the other side of the mess, harvesting his own share of praises from many high-ranking officers. The older man was looking at him and on his lips was a smile that seemed very cold to his eyes.

It was ironic that the haze of weariness was actually helping him to see better.

Suzaku wanted to laugh. He had often caught himself comparing the brother to the sister, particularly after their absolute victory over two months ago, and wondering if he had finally found another person he could trust. And now he realised how wrong he had been. He couldn’t even begin to compare them. The princess was this beautiful soul with a kind heart that loved the peace and believed in equity for all humans.

The prince was a man with a cold, manipulative heart and a smile which belied everything.

 

\-----

 

16.

“Do you know what they call you?”

Suzaku stopped in the middle of trying to untangle his legs from the sheets and glanced to his side. The prince was watching him with dark eyes, the slightly-amused smile which seemed to grace his face all the time once more present after the afterglow of sex had passed.

“The white demon.”

It was the way Schneizel had said it, slow, with a little hint of pride and just the right amount of frankness. Suzaku felt a shiver running down his spine when a hand climbed to his face, long fingers caressing his cheek. “They fear you,” the prince continued, his voice deep and flecked with faint roughness. “Every time you appear on the battlefield, they panic. They ruin their own formation and provide us with an easy path to victory.”

Suzaku drew in a sharp breath when the prince slip and tangle those fingers in his hair and pulled him down. “You are my weapon, Suzaku-kun,” he said with a smile that seemed almost, _almost_ affectionate. “My white demon.”

That, he realised bitterly as the prince kissed him again, must be the point of this whole charade.

 

\-----

 

17.

There were two things about Lancelot’s ability to fly which made it a double-edged sword. One, it allowed him to aim a shot without worrying about trees or other kinds of obstructions. Two, it worked the other way around too. The enemy could see him clearly and up in the sky, he easily became a conspicuous target.

Suzaku had never put much thought on the second detail, so when he saw Claire’s Knightmare being pushed back by four of the enemy, he jumped high up into the sky and fired at them, carefully aiming at their legs and arms.

Suddenly alarm blared inside the cockpit, warning him of incoming missiles, and Suzaku realised that he had fallen into a trap. He didn’t really remember what happened next. His body must have reacted quickly and shot those missiles down because when his mind took over again, he was already on the ground, landing safely.

“Thank you, Sir,” Claire’s face appeared on one of his screens, looking shaken but relieved. Suzaku barely had a chance to smile at her when he noticed two enemy Knightmares heading his way.

The Second Prince had been right – again. It was easier to move alone, but this operation was way too big for anyone to handle without any backup. Their current target, a military harbour on the west coast of the island, was heavily fortified and protected by four main cannons. The task set for his squad was to take them down as quickly as possible before they could inflict heavy damage on their main fleet. If they succeeded capturing the harbour, the Chinese Federation wouldn’t be able to send in more reinforcements.

So far, they had demolished three out of four. The last one was positioned on a small cape at the far end of the harbour and it was designated to be Jacques’s job. Suzaku glanced around anxiously. They were still fighting, which meant that the last cannon was still active. He was considering the pros and cons of going there himself when his lieutenant’s voice boomed in the cockpit.

“Sir, all cannons are down!”

“All right. Pull back, everyone!” he ordered and then quickly switched the communication link to Avalon. “All cannons are down. The main fleet can move in now.”

He could almost hear the whispers of excitement going on in the bridge of the ship. There was a faint click, and then a familiar clinical voice came through the line. “Excellent job, Suzaku-kun. Now withdraw your squad and move along with us.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Suzaku allowed himself a deep breath as he made his retreat. Even now, he could already see the end of this battle. Once the enemy troops had learnt that they had nothing between them and _the_ Avalon but a few brick walls, they would surrender.

And they did. Not ten minutes later.

Suzaku stared at lines of prisoners filing out from the main building and thought of the Second Prince of the empire, watching from his lofty pedestal in his floating fortress with a small contented smile. The smoke was fading in the sky, but he knew this wouldn’t be his last battle. There would be many more to come, and he would be present in many of them if he managed to keep his life instead of losing it in one of them.

But there was one thing Suzaku was sure of. He still had his goal – for Japan and his memory to Euphie – and he needed every help he could get to reach it. But if Schneizel became too much of a threat to humankind, he swore on his life that it would be his hands which put an end to everything and killed the prince.

It would be his hands.

 

\-----

 

18.

“How is it?”

Lloyd’s beaming face replaced Cecile’s on the screen. “Ninety-eight percent, Suzaku-kun. Do you realise what this means?”

Suzaku quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“This means that you have become almost as important as Lancelot himself,” the earl told him with a satisfied air. Suzaku would have doubled over in laughter if he wasn’t inside the Knightmare’s narrow cockpit.

“We must celebrate,” Cecile’s voice rang in the background as he climbed out of Lancelot. “I’ll see if there is anything left in the mess.”

“And some wine please,” Lloyd called after her.

Suzaku claimed the chair left by Cecile and sat watching his superior working on lines of codes. He had learnt some basic programming in case – and this was a very big IN CASE, because the older man was very protective of his Lancelot – he needed to do a little change on the Knightmare’s program while Lloyd was not around. It cost some of his sleeping time, but he felt that Lancelot was worth it.

Lloyd must have started to rub off on him.

He realised that they were unusually inactive in these past two days. After the capture of the harbour, the enemy crumbled before the Second Prince’s fleet like a group of fleeing rabbits. They had regained most of the island and there was only one base left. Unfortunately, it was the largest base of all and also sheltered myriads of soldiers and possibly hundreds of Knightmares. A frontal assault most likely would take heavy tolls on both sides and to Suzaku’s relief, their commander-in-chief opposed this idea and gave the general who had suggested it a stern talking-to.

As the result, they were now waiting for a group of reinforcements to make their way around the island in order to catch the enemy from behind. It was a simple plan, but the prince had assured him that it would be enough when he had voiced his anxiety. _Their eyes are fixed on Avalon,_ he had answered with a smile which Suzaku had come to hate so much. It seemed so false to his eyes, but of course the prince was right. Avalon meant Schneizel el Britannia and Lancelot. As he had discovered from the screams of a few prisoners when they had seen him, the ‘white demon’ stuff was really out there, creating disorder inside the enemy.

But all this waiting was making him edgy. Until now, their enemy hadn’t made a single move. It might be out of fear, but no one could say for sure. For all he knew, they might be brewing some kind of evil plan right now and on within next hour or so, a surprise attack would have already been launched. He had been more than glad when Lloyd had suggested running a compatibility test. At least it could take his mind away from the war for a little while.

“Do you know how popular you’ve become?”

Suzaku looked away from the screen and stared at his superior who was staring back at him with an alarming amount of concentration. “Me?”

“Yes, among your fellow countrymen especially.”

“Really?”

“You should’ve expected that after all those impressive feats you’ve done,” the older man told him. “Everybody loves a hero, Suzaku-kun, especially one who is brave enough to put his life in danger’s way again and again. And sometimes, this kind of admiration even reaches a point where his past no longer becomes an issue for them.”

Suzaku could feel a corresponding smile making its way to his lips. “This is the first time you’ve ever said anything like that to me.”

“Don’t get used to it,” the earl said with an admonishing tone. “I’ll admit though, that coming across you was the ultimate stroke of luck. I doubt I can find anyone else who has a degree of compatibility this high with Lancelot.” He paused and a thoughtful look settled across his face. “You know, sometimes it makes me wonder if you’re also this compatible with him.”

“With what?”

Lloyd shook a finger slowly in front of his face. “With whom is the right question, Suzaku-kun.”

It felt like he had suddenly been doused with a bucketful of ice-cold water. “With… _whom_?”

“I hacked into your PC,” the earl admitted without the slightest bit of remorse and when he noticed the look on Suzaku’s face, cheerfully added, “Don’t get mad at me. It’s your fault for not telling me in the first place. Now at least I know where to look for you if you aren’t in your quarters.”

“Lloyd-san–“

“Ah, here is the wine,” he interrupted and happily turned to Cecile who had returned with two plates of sandwiches and a bottle of wine. The younger man was left alone to stare at his back with multiplying horror.

 

\-----

 

19.

Every morning, Suzaku would wake up, open his eyes, and see either one of these things: the grey well next to his bed, the computer on his desk a few feet away, or the tight pattern of his pillowcase. He could expect this routine to be unchanging as long as he still slept on his room aboard Avalon. It was strangely comforting in a way.

But one morning, he woke up, opened his eyes, and found a pair of curious violet eyes looking back at him.

“Good morning, Suzaku-kun.”

He started and would have thrown off his blanket – no, not _his_ blanket, Suzaku realised in horror – if he hadn’t gotten a quick grip on himself. “I… Schneizel-sama, what…?”

“You fell asleep last night before you could leave,” the prince told him with an amused little smile. “I must have greatly tired you out.”

He wasn’t even completely sober, and yet Suzaku could already feel blood flooding to his face. After a moment of stupefied inaction, he gathered his wits and said slowly, his voice only a little above nervous whisper, “I have to go.”

“That you do,” the other man nodded, propping up his head on one hand, and glanced to the nightstand behind him, “but not before you have your cup of coffee first.”

The real gravity of the situation hit him after that line. Suzaku could see it in his mind, someone, the prince’s valet maybe – if he had indeed brought one on board – delivering a cup of coffee under his master’s order and seeing him here, sleeping in the prince’s bed, completely naked. Everyone could jump to the right conclusion at once. The news would spread faster than the one heralding their victory. Claire and Jacques would lose every bit of respect they have for him and despise his breathing guts. Those who already had would laugh and call him ‘the Eleven whore’.

Suzaku was too absorbed in this terrifying world of blind conjectures that he didn’t realise that the prince was watching him with great interest. This went on for quite a while until he decided to take pity on him and break his train of thoughts.

“No one saw you here if is is what troubles you so deeply,” he said calmly, almost making Suzaku start again. “However, you may want to drink the coffee. Klaus has brought it up himself as far as to the door. He will be disappointed to find an untouched cup later.”

Suzaku sensed a vague inclination to ask more about this ‘Klaus’ – the chef? the valet? the random officer who took his order? – but couldn’t make up his mind on how to phrase the question without sounding really stupid. In the end, he decided that it was a moot point because what had happened had happened. He raised his eyes and met the prince’s languid smile.

“Your coffee, Suzaku-kun.”

Suzaku felt his entire body going rigid. He recognised this kind of thing. A similar game had been repeatedly played on him by many of his instructors during his academy days, often only to make them laugh or serve as an interesting foreplay. And apparently now the Second Prince was inclined to take his turn.

There were two cups sitting on the nightstand, which was strategically located next to the other side of the bed. He could either reach over the prince’s body – which was not only embarrassing but also overwhelmingly inappropriate – or go around the bed. The problem with the second option was, while the older man had clad himself in a maroon-coloured dressing gown, the only thing keeping Suzaku away from complete exposure was the white blanket. They might have already seen each other with nothing on several times, but to parade around naked under the scrutiny of an royal prince…

Who was also a royal bastard, Suzaku seethed silently. It was no less debasing from his past experiences. The prince only made the whole act look a little more sophisticated with his elegant way of doing things.

“Or do you want me to get it for you?” The suggestion was offered with a tone which implied nothing and everything at once.

Blood was now rushing loudly in his ears and the sound swept every bit of patience away, replacing them with sharp resentment. Suzaku glared back and hissed, “No, thank you, Sir.”

And he threw the blanket aside. The air in the room felt cold on his newly-exposed legs, but he ignored it. Rising to his knees, Suzaku put one hand in front of the prince and another behind him, careful not to make any direct contact. As he leant forward, his bare stomach brushed the soft fabric of the dressing gown and the sensation made Suzaku bit his lips, eyes shutting tight momentarily. But he steeled himself and reached for his intended cup – the full one – before quickly returning to his side of the bed.

The whole sequence took no more than five seconds, but his heart was pounding wildly in his chest once he was done. The prince barely moved at all. He only tilted his head slightly to one side, watching his every movement intently. There wasn’t any lecherous smile or victorious smirk, only deep curiosity reflected in his eyes.

Suzaku looked down hastily to his cup. The intensity in the older man’s gaze was making him uncomfortable and he suddenly found the coffee very useful to keep his mind off... other things. He watched slivers of light dancing on black gleaming surface for a little while before the full realisation that he had been fascinated by blurry reflections on caffeinated liquid dawned on him.

Suzaku almost cringed. It was rather disturbing.

He could still feel the prince’s eyes on him and quickly brought the cup to his mouth. A few sips later, Suzaku realised that he recognised the flavor. Which was odd. He licked his lips several times to make sure of the aftertaste, and yes, it was no different to the coffee he usually had every morning in the mess. He would have expected the prince to have his own finer brand stocked somewhere, ready for his exclusive enjoyment.

And suddenly the other man was very close, much too close to Suzaku’s comfort. “Make sure you’re holding your cup steady, Suzaku-kun,” his deep voice whispered in front of his ear.

It might be years of being trained as a soldier to follow every order, no matter how nonsensical it was, because when a hand clasped his face and pulled him down, there was no coffee spilled to white pristine sheets. The prince was kissing him passionately, like he was claiming his mouth and marking it his for eternity. Suzaku remembered none of his earlier annoyance, his mind blanking completely until the other man withdrew with a gentle sweep of tongue on his lower lip. It still did not make a return even after the deed was done, mainly because there was a hand lingering on the base of his neck, stroking the sensitive skin there slowly.

“This is nice,” the prince said with a contented smile, watching him with half-lidded eyes. “We should do this more often.”

Suzaku wasn’t quite sure what ‘this’ was referring to, so he said nothing – which was probably safer since most of His Highness’s ministrations tended to cause an embarrassing effect on his precious vocal chord. Every end nerve, every fibre in his body was thrumming with pleasure. Suzaku tried hard not to show it but he realised that it was rather impossible. Breathing gradually became a labour for him and the complacent look displayed so nonchalantly on that handsome face hardly helped if at all.

But he hated this. He hated how this imperial could make him feel this weak. This helpless. He hated how his body always submitted every time and let the older man did what he wanted. And the worst of all, he hated the fact that he could not – or would not, who the hell knew – do anything about it.

“We will launch the final attack tomorrow,” the prince suddenly said, his fingers still moving with agonizing slowness. “Are you worried, Suzaku-kun?”

“Should I be, Sir?” Suzaku was relieved to discover that his vocal chords were still able to function properly under that sweet torture.

“Perhaps,” the other man smiled noncommittally and withdrew his hand. Suzaku bit his tongue to prevent himself from giving voice to any kind of protest. “Contrary to popular belief, I do not have the gift of foresight.”

“But you have correctly predicted the outcome of every single battle we have gone through so far.”

“Predicted, yes,” the prince sounded almost regretful. “"Still, the fact is that humans are beings prone to many kind of mortal flaws. I am not immune to mistakes.”

“Then we shall make no mistake tomorrow,” Suzaku replied matter-of-factly. He wouldn’t allow the war to drag on. Tomorrow would be the end.

There must be something in his answer which he wasn’t quite aware of. Something wrong, or unexpected. He wanted to look away. He didn’t like the way the prince was looking at him – almost like there was surprise, or genuine honesty, or a hint of possessiveness, or maybe a mix of the three – and he certainly didn’t like what it was doing to him.

And when the older man opened his mouth again, he knew he was right.

“Why did you let me take you again and again?”

A long moment of stunned silence ensued. Suzaku felt like his entire world had narrowed into that one question. There supposed to be no question. Schneizel couldn’t ask him that. There was _not_ a place for that question here, in this, between them.

“Why?” the question was repeated, slower, softer.

But being the royal bastard that he was, the prince went and asked it anyway.

Suzaku stared blankly at the older man. There was virtually no answer he could give without grazing the painful truth a little, so he went by the safest route.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, his answer echoing hollowly in the room. It was a lie – an easy way out – and he knew that Schneizel knew that.

“Yes, you do,” the prince stated, his smile cold. “You are not someone who does things without knowing why. Is it duty? Fear? Frustration? Mutual interest?” There was a pause and then his voice dropped to a gentle murmur. “Or, dare I hope, trust?”

The safest route once more materialized itself before his eyes. Suzaku didn’t need to look at it to know what he should say.

“Yes,” he lied firmly, and yet felt like he had just displayed the darkest part of his heart to the world.

 

\-----

 

20.

“Your head hit the back of Lancelot’s cockpit,” Cecile told him after he had woken up with the sensation of thousands of hammers vigorously pounding his head from every side.

“And Lancelot is in a wreck,” Lloyd added with the same petulance often displayed by five-year-old boys.

Cecile shot the earl an irritated look before helping Suzaku to sit up slowly. Millions of colourful fireflies swarmed his eyes until he couldn’t see anything else but a giant mosaic of gradients and colours, like he was peering into a small kaleidoscope. They faded after a while, but not without leaving him one helluva of a headache.

And suddenly, pieces of blurry memories were coming back to him. He remembered the heat of battle and sitting inside Lancelot, his hands numb from gripping the control too tightly as the battle thundered and roared all around him. The last fortress stood proud and tall, unwilling to surrender under the heavy bombardment of the attacking fleet. They were beset, but they had hundreds of Knightmares and thousands of determined soldiers, all fighting their hardest because if the base fell, so did China’s ambition. They simply refused to back down, even when Avalon aimed all of its cannons to their command centre.

Avalon. God, no.

“Avalon,” Suzaku whispered, fear clinging to his heart and voice as he clutched Cecile’s upper arm. “Is it okay? What happened?”

Lloyd was the one who answered him. “Yes, Avalon is okay, Suzaku-kun, thanks to your mad, unbelievable, but inexplicably effective maneuver which, if I may add, is exactly the reason why you are lying here right now. What in the emperor’s name were you thinking when you did that?”

Suzaku ignored the question. “And Lancelot–“

“– is okay too,” the earl interrupted him and his frown cleared slightly at this bit of information. “But he may not survive long with the way you continue using him, so please refrain yourself a little in the future.”

“So we’ve won?”

“Yes.”

“The war is over?”

“The war is over,” the older man repeated and solemnly added, “for now.”

Suzaku would have fallen back to the bed if Cecile had not been holding his shoulder with such intensity that it almost hurt. Relief washed over him like a warm waft of air, leaving him weak and trembling slightly. He barely listened as Lloyd rambled on, explaining every single damage the enemy had inflicted on Lancelot with exact thoroughness.

The battle had been brutal, but what filled his mind was something else. Suzaku looked down to his hands. They had killed many, destroyed many, and yet when he had seen that the enemy had its two last standing cannons aimed at Avalon, they had not hesitated. Not for one millisecond. They forced Lancelot to fling himself to a nearby enemy Knightmare, driving them both to one of the cannons. It exploded, along with the Knightmare. Suzaku jumped back just in time to avoid getting himself caught in the explosion but he wasn’t fast enough to evade a direct hit from the remaining cannon.

Despite all that, he had come out alive. The irony was so obvious that Suzaku found himself laughing quietly.

“Suzaku-kun?” Cecile’s anxious voice reached his ears and her hand tightened a fraction on his shoulder. He looked up, but the sight that greeted his face ceased his laughter completely.

Schneizel was standing at the threshold, his face an emotionless mask carefully arranged behind golden fringes. Cecile almost jumped back, but she managed to keep her reaction to standing up from her chair and stepping aside. The temperature in the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees and for once, Lloyd did not try to break the ice with his usual flippancy. His pale eyes watched them, both hands casually plunged deep into his pockets, and Suzaku realised that he was left to his own devices.

But before he could open his mouth, the prince had turned around and left.

 

\-----

 

21.

The messages stopped coming entirely after that.

It was abrupt and Suzaku was more than a little confused. At first, he hadn’t thought much about it since both of them were incredibly busy. The prince, as the temporary Governor-General of Japan, had to bring order back to the island. Suzaku himself found his arms full with chasing a group of fleeing enemy soldiers who had taken five Britannian officials hostage. They had gone into hiding in the mountains, harsh and rocky and all over a difficult terrain to conquer. The entire mission took almost one month to finish and afterward, there were still flames of resistance to put out.

But then the hectic period ended and with it, his one and only distraction. All kinds of hell simply broke loose without the barrier.

Suzaku liked to consider himself as an optimistic person, but a small, weaker part of him was starting to wonder when two months had passed without him ever being summoned even once. He usually tried to stay away from the thought as best as he could – there was practically no reason why he should be bothered by this. In fact, it should have come as a relief that he no longer had to play whore for the prince. But for one reason or another, the questions, the suspicions had begun to disturb him day and night, soaring to the surface at the most inopportune hours and leaving him more puzzled and frustrated than ever.

Guessing and speculating became unavoidable. His first theory was that the prince had finally gotten bored with him and moved to greener pastures. And if this was the case, Suzaku didn’t think he wanted to know further. It was no longer his business. He could move on and pretend that nothing ever happened. The best conclusion. The end. Farewell. Ta.

If only he could stop at that.

There was something else. No matter what, Suzaku couldn’t silence the contradicting voice in his head – he called it _doubt_ , not _hope_. He had been feeling this sense of déjà vu for days and a part of his mind wondered if the prince was really avoiding him again.

But on what basis? Fraternization? While the act itself was not explicitly forbidden in Britannian Army, it was definitely frowned upon. That there was much fraternizing going on under his nose had not gone unnoticed by Suzaku, but most of the times, he chose to turn a blind eye on them, especially when it came to Jacques who, in his opinion, was one of the absolute worst that it was infinitely safer to know nothing about his escapades.

In term of magnitude, however, Suzaku was aware that his case dwarfed Jacques’s completely. That it involved the second son of the Imperial Family and an Eleven officer was only the tip of the iceberg. It would be enough to destroy his future in the Army and with it every plan he had secretly harboured for his country.

Yes, it was better this way.

It was better, and yet those words only rang hollowly, entirely without meaning every time he repeated them in his head. They were useless. The fact remained. He missed Schneizel and missed him bad. What exactly he was missing was unclear to him, but then again, maybe he didn’t want to find out. For now, all he knew was the loss smote him harder than he had ever thought possible.

It could be the sex. He wanted a warm body at his side, to touch him, to thrust deep into him, to make him feel alive with black heat and raw pleasure. He wanted to hear that voice in front of his ear, deep and rich with amusement or roughened by lust and pleasure. He wanted the oblivion, the complete abandon when he reached his climax and screamed into the prince's mouth.

The memories visited him during the strangest times – in Lancelot’s cockpit, while talking to Jacques or Claire about their newest mission, while attending to Lloyd’s every whim, while eating with the others in the mess, or while wrapped in thick tendrils of sleep. The last was especially recurrent. Often he would wake up in the middle of the night and found his body drenched in cold sweat and very, very aroused.

The fourth night it had happened, Suzaku knew he had to do something. When his fingers curled around the hard flesh, he remembered many strange things. Jacques and his lovers, Claire asking him why he was so pale nowadays, Lloyd lecturing him about Lancelot, and Schneizel. Schneizel with his hands on him. Schneizel kissing the sensitive spot on the juncture of his neck. Schneizel making him feel much, _much_ more that he had ever allowed himself to feel. The sound of his own breathing was too sharp in his ears and he almost didn’t realise when his fingers climbed down and descended to a place they had never touched before. Dark memories rose unbidden to the blank canvas of his mind. The time he had lost his virginity to one of his Academy instructors. The way he had kept a deaf ear to Suzaku’s screams and pleas. The fact that he had done it again and again without looking at him even once.

Suzaku froze and pulled his hand back quickly, burying it under his pillow as his body curled beneath the blanket, shaking violently. All those memories were still there and yet he had allowed the prince to touch him. He _still_ wanted the prince to touch him. God.

It was not unlike going crazy. After all, madness ripped common sense easily into shreds and his was already burned to ashes.

He only ever touched himself again in the shower, when the sound of water splashing on the cold tiles would muffle any other sound, when he could pretend that the droplets of water running down his face were nothing special.

The wetness on his face when he woke up every morning however, was a different story.

 

\-----

 

22.

“Hey, there you are.”

Suzaku turned around quickly and was greeted by Jacques’s sunny grin, white teeth almost gleaming under the flaming crimson sky. He frowned slightly, wondering when the door leading to the deck had been opened and why he hadn’t heard a sound. Had he been immersed in his thoughts that much?

“Finally, we’ll return to Tokyo tomorrow morning,” the other man said with a sigh as he leant to the railing next to him. “I don’t know about you, but it’s a big relief for me. I want a vacation real bad.”

“I can tell,” Suzaku smiled back at him, deciding that he would be polite despite having his favourite time of the day disturbed. He loved coming here everyday at sundown, to feel the wind on his face and let his troubles drift away with it – or at least pretend to. He did that often nowadays. Pretending.

“So, what are you doing here?” The grin had been toned down, and in its place now was a curious look tinged with amusement. “Hiding from the majority of your fans?”

Suzaku found himself frowning again at the harmless but unwelcome teasing. “No, I just like it here,” he couldn’t help a note of irritation which had slipped into his voice. No wonder. He had been in a bad mood since… practically more than two months ago.

Fortunately, Jacques didn’t seem to notice – or if he did, hardly took any offence. “It’s nice,” he breathed in deeply and let out an appreciative sigh, enjoying the fine autumn weather. Suzaku felt a rush of cutting guilt. He glanced at the taller man, noticing how the setting sun painted his long dark hair in soft russet, eyes closed in quiet appreciation. Jacques looked breathtaking like that, he thought and quickly scolded himself for letting the notion appear. It was true that he reminded him of Schneizel, but _everything_ reminded him of Schneizel nowadays, so it was a moot point.

“I’ve been watching you for some time, you know?”

Suzaku tensed. Jacques couldn’t possibly mean what he was thinking he meant, right? A part of him wanted to consider the possibility that Claire had been talking to her fellow lieutenant about their colonel’s strange mood lately and Jacques was now about to bring that topic up. But he quickly realised that the idea was nothing short of ridiculous. There was no way he could misinterpret that look in the other man’s eyes.

“I was hoping you would notice,” Jacques continued, apparently undeterred by his lack of response. He stepped closer and put one hand on the railing behind Suzaku, effectively trapping the younger man. “But you just have to play hard-to-get, don’t you?” he added with an amused smirk.

That wasn’t it, Suzaku wanted to say, but he was too mesmerized by the golden hues reflected in the other man’s eyes. The sun made them seem ablaze with fire, smouldering and captivating. When Jacques’s face slowly drew closer, all he could see were those eyes.

The first contact on his lips burned him. Suzaku’s reaction was immediate and instinctive. He jerked forward, capturing the taller man’s lips in one feverish motion, his fingers gripping broad shoulders violently until Jacques moaned against his mouth. There was nothing but heat and dark fire in him and deep, insatiable want. Suzaku closed his eyes, pressed harder, crushed deeper, and only wanted more. He wanted something else, so bad that he almost didn’t feel the metal railing digging into his back as Jacques drove him back, putting almost his entire weight on him.

They broke apart with short, gasping breaths. Suzaku kept his eyes closed, his head lolling backward to open air as he struggled to calm himself down. He could feel the other man’s heavy panting at the crook of his neck, and suppressed a shiver. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what Jacques deserved.

Did he care?

“If I’ve known this is how you’ll react to my advances, I would have kissed you a long time ago,” the older man told him, laughter in his breathless voice as his lips traced a line from Suzaku’s neck up to his left ear. Suzaku only stared, unmoving, at the darkening sky. He felt like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest and crushed it in one hand. The pain. The cold anger. He wanted to do it to someone else – and here was Jacques, ready at his disposal. He could make the other man feel like this, and he would just laugh afterward because it wasn’t his fault. It was Schneizel’s. The prince made him do this. And maybe then he would watch Jacques do it to someone else and laugh again.

He didn't care.

Suzaku closed his eyes. But not this time. He knew he was capable of many cruel things and this was only one of them, a little speck in the vast constellation, but Jacques didn’t deserve this treatment. In fact, no one did.

Coming to a decision, Suzaku slowly detached himself from the other man and tried to make a little distance between them. He caught the half-surprised, half-doubtful look on Jacques’s face but only steeled himself and stared back.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he declared, his voice sounding much too weak to make any kind of declaration at all. Those dark eyes, hazed with lust and something else that made Suzaku shudder, narrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he repeated, harder and firmer this time. “We really shouldn’t. It isn’t right.”

“Afraid someone will find out?” A hint of sneer accompanied the question. Suzaku thought of everything he had done with the Second Prince and resisted an urge to snort. Jacques was looking at this from an entirely wrong point.

“Maybe,” he mumbled and looked away, avoiding the other’s eyes. He thought of how different they were from Schneizel’s. “But for now, I just want to be able to look at you in the eye and not think that I’ve done something I shouldn’t.”

“You kissed me back.” There was an accusing note in it and Suzaku guiltily glanced up at the taller man.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?” Jacques snapped and turned away from him, his angry gaze set to the range of mountains in the distance that glowed bronze in the twilight. Once again, Suzaku realised how handsome his lieutenant was.

He really needed to get rid of that thought. It was essentially the source of his problem – apart from the prince of course, but that was beside the point. The point was, any kind of attraction notwithstanding, fraternizing with a subordinate would only bring more trouble for both of them.

He tried not to think how hypocritical it sounded.

“Well, at least now I know how it feels to be turned down,” Jacques murmured, still not looking at him.

Suzaku bit his lips so hard that they almost bled. “I’m really sorry,” he said miserably.

“Stop saying that,” the other man hissed, his tone sharp with reprimand and obvious discomfort. When he finally looked at Suzaku again, it was with a pair of solemn eyes, followed by a wry voice. “I have one advice though. If it really isn’t your intention to attract more attention to yourself – especially the unhealthy ones – you may want to lower your voice a bit.”

Suzaku blinked. “My voice?”

“You know, when you’re taking care of yourself in the shower.”

Everything went silent. Even the wind had suddenly stopped blowing, or maybe it was just his ears malfunctioning because blood was rushing to his face like a spring deluge. Suzaku felt like he could die from embarrassment alone.

“Oh, God… I– Was I really…?”

“Yes,” Jacques said with a hint of a smile. “You were quite loud.”

Now would be a good time to scamper back to his hole six feet under. The mortification was so great that there was about zero chance he could return to the living world. In fact, thinking about what the other soldiers might be saying behind his back was enough to make him want to remain among the dead.

His lieutenant seemed to notice this too and took pity on him. “Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “No one has said anything to you, right?”

“But–“

“I think everyone appreciates it instead,” Jacques told him calmly, pretending not to see the shocked look on the younger man’s face. His old mischief was already evident in his voice when he added, “Your voice makes a very good wet-dream material.”

Yes. He was officially dead right now.

 

\-----

 

23.

“Are you really sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yes, Cecile-san,” Suzaku answered as politely as possible for probably the twentieth time or so, and silently wondered how many more times he would get this question today. His cheeks were hurting from too much smiling and assuring people that he would be all right by himself. All military personnel had been given a day off and for some obscure reasons, everyone seemed hell-bent to get him to join them.

The problem was, he wanted to be alone today.

“If you’re really sure,” Cecile said hesitantly.

Suzaku quickly seized the chance. “I’ll be fine,” he told her, forcing another smile to embellish his face and cover his growing impatience. “I’m not really in the mood to go anyway. Why don’t you ask Lloyd-san instead?”

That, of course, did the trick. She reproached him slightly for implying things which had no base whatsoever, but in the end quickly went away. Suzaku watched her back for a moment, wondering if she would really follow his suggestion, but then decided that he didn’t want to know. Now that he had gotten the solitude he wanted, he should make the best out of it.

Two hours and not more than three pages later found him lying on his bed in utter boredom, one hand covering his eyes and the book he had intended to read abandoned at his side. He was starting to regret his decision not to go with the others. Even a shopping trip with Claire sounded really appealing right now. He could barely concentrate, let alone make sense of complicated war strategies.

It was not long until his mind drifted to unwanted directions. Suzaku was far from surprised to discover that the Second Prince turned out to be the strongest magnet in this department.

He almost had never seen Schneizel again.

Since the Federation’s invasion on Kyushu had ended in failure and certain level of order had been restored, the Britannian main fleet had returned to Tokyo. If his meetings with the prince had been few and far in between under the pressure of their post-war business – and even if they had met, it would have been in formal gatherings under so many eyes – the occasion practically dwindled to naught once it was over.

What frustrated him beyond anything was the fact that he _knew_ that Schneizel had been watching him. Most of the times, it would just be a little tug of instinct, which was enough for him. He was a soldier. He knew when he was being watched.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid. 

This, unfortunately, only served to make everything more complicated than before. Suzaku had given up trying to ask himself ‘why’. There was no use – it would only pile more headaches on him. In the prince wanted to hide from him, so be it. Suzaku would rather let the frustration plague him forever than seek answers from the older man. Unlike with Euphie, there were things he would _not_ do for him.

But of course it wasn’t the same. He loved Euphie. It was different with Schneizel, too much lust and raw need and, he reflected bitterly, an unbelievable amount of pain. It wasn’t love.

_Then what was it?_

Hissing softly, Suzaku pulled a pillow to bury his face in. This was getting out of hand. He really should go out and search for some sort of distraction. He considered a few options, among them going to the training ground and catching up with Cecile or Claire, but discarded them just as quick. There was no one around he could spar with and he didn’t want to see Tokyo – not yet, particularly the Britannian part of the city. There were too many painful memories he had buried there.

Or maybe he could go to the ghetto. Why not? True, there was quite a chance that he wouldn’t be getting out alive, but this kind of risk had never deterred him before. He didn’t see why it should now.

Suzaku inhaled a deep breath and rose from the bed to change his clothes.

 

\-----

 

24.

It was worse than he had feared.

‘Poverty’ was too small a word to describe the sight that greeted his eyes everywhere as he walked around the poor, dismal neighbourhood. And so was ‘despair’. It almost felt like every god above had turned their back on these people.

The incident in the Special Area had left them even worse than before. There were more homeless people around. The gap between Britannian and Japanese became larger, much more pronounced, the hate ran deeper, and the possibility of any peaceful solution drifted farther. He could try playing the buffer as much as he wanted, but if there was any result at all, he certainly didn’t see it.

Suzaku pulled his baseball cap lower until it almost covered his eyes. With his current position, he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t have enough power or authority, and this helplessness stabbed him deep like a poisoned blade. There might be something he could try if he was still sleeping with the temporary Governor-General, but of course now it was completely out of question.

What he had been doing all this time?

He trudged along silently, only risking a glance around when he was certain that he wouldn’t meet anybody’s eyes. Suzaku was slightly relieved that he had not worn his sunglasses and gone with a cap instead. He already attracted enough attention as he was. Even his shabbiest clothes stood out here – imagine what a pair of sunglasses would do.

“Hey, look out!”

Suzaku looked up just in time to catch the ball which was flying fast toward him. It was an old tennis ball, flat and almost brown with grime and dust. Before he could look around for its owner, two little boys, no more than seven or eight years old, had come running toward him.

“That’s cool! How did you do that?”

“Come play with us!”

The innocent, enthusiastic offer surprised him. Suzaku couldn’t help but smile back, but still said nothing. He noticed their T-shirts and shorts, far more worn out than anything he had ever owned in his life, with bright-coloured patches in several places, and felt a great rush to comply to their request.

While he was hesitating, however, a sharp voice solved his problem for him.

“Jiro! Taketo! Come back here!”

He lifted his face just enough to see a woman standing on the doorstep of what seemed to be a small hut, both hands on her hips. She was glaring suspiciously at him and while Suzaku didn’t think she had recognised him, he knew when it was time to make an escape. He returned the ball to one of the boys with a little smile and quickly slipped into a nearby alley.

No one followed him, but Suzaku kept his fast pace for at least a minute or so. He felt horrible and agitated, like he was running away from something. Everything seemed so wrong here. Those boys were supposed to attend a good school, play in a safe environment, live in a decent house, wear nice clothes. They might be able to, if Britannia had not set its greedy eyes on Japan.

His boots made a hollow echo in the silent alleyway. Suzaku continued to walk aimlessly. He didn’t know what to do anymore. To stay with his original plan seemed rather pointless now, especially since he could no longer trust the Second Prince. Maybe his first instinct had been right. He had played right into the older man’s hand. Even if it wasn’t true, there was no guarantee that he could ever reach a position high enough to influence any decision concerning Japan.

Of course it had been a gamble from the start. He had realised this when he had made the deal with the prince, but now Suzaku was forced to reassess his decision. His thoughts unconsciously wandered to Euphie. What would she do if she was the one trapped in this situation?

The answer was obvious, he thought, smiling bitterly. She would keep on fighting. She would not give up only because the odds were overwhelming. There was no way to determine which was possible and which wasn’t from the start, he could almost hear her voice in his head.

“Hey you!”

The gruff, unfriendly voice pierced the silence around him like a rusty knife. It rang uncomfortably in his ears and when Suzaku looked up, he noted that the speaker also had a rather unsavoury appearance. A young man, possibly older than him only by a few years, was watching him from the top of a ruined two-story building. There was a hostile, arrogant air around him, but that wasn’t what concerned Suzaku the most. It was the fact that he was surrounded by twenty or maybe thirty other people with similar appearance.

“This is our area,” the young man announced. “What business you have with us, the Wolf’s Bane?”

Apparently he had strayed into a street gang’s area. The first man who had spoken to him was obviously the leader. Suzaku rifled through his mind, trying to find a way to beat an inconspicuous retreat, when one of the members of the group approached him with heavy stomps.

“Answer the damn question!” he roared and suddenly lunged forward, fist ready to strike him. Suzaku jumped back and escaped a direct hit, but his cap was not so lucky. It fell to the dusty ground almost without a sound.

“Kururugi Suzaku!”

The hiss put an instant silence over the area. The burly man who had recognised him had retreated quickly to his circle of friends, fist still raised in front of his chest as if to protect himself from the possibility of a surprise attack. Suzaku stared back, heart beating uncomfortably faster and faster as every pair of eyes in the vicinity watched him, mostly in disbelief and stunned astonishment. He had gotten himself into a very big mess this time. Trouble would sprout soon, and he knew it had begun when the young leader’s mouth curved into a sneer.

“Well, well, this is surprising,” he smiled unpleasantly. “Kururugi Suzaku, eh?”

Whispers of ‘traitor’ were buzzing in the background. Every morsel of doubt had been replaced by either hate or cold anger, but Suzaku didn’t budge. When the leader pulled out his gun and took an aim at him, he barely flinched.

“They’ve kicked you out, huh?” The ugly, victorious sneer had appeared again.

“No,” Suzaku heard himself contradicting, his voice trembling a little. “I came here on my–“

He saw the small rock coming toward him, but his hands moved too slowly. It had hit his left eyebrow before he could catch it. The next thing he knew, there were rocks of every size and kind hitting him from many directions.

“Filthy traitor!”

“Get out of here!”

“Return to your master, you Britannia’s dog!”

“Fucking trash!”

“Britannia’s whore!”

The shouts were drowning each other in his ears. Suzaku found his feet rooted to the spot as the crowd kept throwing rocks at him. The sharp ones gashed his clothes and skin, many drawing thick red blood as the blunt ones bruised and marked his flesh. But he couldn’t run. His eyes were fixed on the tip of the leader’s gun, still dangerously aimed at him.

These people hated him, hated his guts, hated everything he believed in. If he really died here, on their hands…

A deafening shot pierced the hectic commotion. Suzaku was only vaguely aware of the sound of screeching tires and more shouting joining the hullabaloo. Cursing angrily, the crowd around him dispersed in panic, but he was still staring at the gun. It wasn’t until it had disappeared along with its owner and someone touched his shoulder that he looked up.

“Hey, you’re okay?” A man in local police’s uniform asked, his brow drawn in concern. Not a second later, his face visibly paled, obviously the side-effect of recognising him. “Kururugi Suzaku.”

The hand quickly dropped from his shoulder. Suzaku wondered if he had imagined the flinch, or the disgust which crossed the officer’s stony face. Maybe not.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the man said, his voice cold but careful. “Go. I can’t guarantee they won’t come back.”

Forcing a smile, Suzaku mumbled a ‘thank you’ and followed the advice. He could feel the officer’s eyes on him as he walked away, and hear the murmur of conversation he had left behind. Automatically, he quickened his pace, wishing to escape as far as possible from this place. His mind felt slow but his body was shaking, like he had just woken up from a series of terrible nightmare.

It was only when he had reached a narrow alley between two tall rundown buildings, that he fell to the cold stone floor and wept.

 

\-----

 

25.

“Are you suicidal or something?”

Suzaku bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out when searing pain erupted somewhere on his scalp. The burning sensation cooled off slightly after a few moments, but when he opened his eyes again, he discovered that they were already blurred by tears.

“You aren’t you ignoring me, are you?” Claire’s voice was rising rapidly.

Suzaku resisted an urge to roll his eyes. He was having his wounds cleaned and to be honest, it was a painful enough process without having to listen to his lieutenant’s high-pitched harping. It was just his luck, really. He had tried to avoid meeting anyone before he could take care of the wounds himself, but the Goddess of Fate apparently decided that he should run into Claire on the way back to his room. He had been promptly dragged to the infirmary and while his injuries were being tended by the nurse on duty, she stood next to his bed and glared.

“I’m not ignoring you,” he told the young woman and hissed when the nurse applied more alcohol to the wound on his head.

“Why couldn’t you stay at the settlement?” she demanded, showing not the merest hint of sympathy to his current condition. Suzaku had a feeling that he was actually the one being ignored than the other way around.

“I wanted to see what has become of my country,” he replied flatly.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. This was one of those topics he had never brought up or mentioned to anyone, and certainly not to his subordinates and friends. Many of the Britannians who worked with him every day were decent people who didn’t really care that he was only an honorary Britannian, but they were still not Japanese. They couldn’t understand and the fact that their country had subjugated his would always be this little thorn neither of them was comfortable with. They didn’t feel it most of the times, but it was there, ready to prickle if they dared to venture into certain subjects.

Come to think of it, he had never publicly referred to Japan as his country save in front of the Second Prince. Was it what actually bothered her?

“Why?” she suddenly asked, her voice tense. “Why did you have to see?”

“I need to,” he answered. “For my own sake.”

Her eyes hardened slightly, as did her voice when she spoke, “You know it won’t change anything.”

Suzaku didn’t acknowledge this and moved to a different subject instead. “What were you doing here in Avalon?” he asked, hoping that his tone was casual enough.

“I was looking for you.” The accusing note was back on her voice. “You didn’t show up at dinner, so I decided to stop by and make sure that you’re all right. Thank God for that decision.”

He did not answer because the nurse had started dressing the cut on his upper lip. Suzaku kept his gaze on the cream-coloured curtain which separated his bed from the rest of the infirmary, avoiding his lieutenant’s frown. It was too bad he had not been able to convince her to stay at the other side of the curtain. It would have saved him a lot of headaches.

“I will need to get more cooling gel for these bruises,” the nurse told him once she was done taking care of the cut. He nodded and she disappeared behind the curtain. Claire, he noticed, was already glaring at him again.

“The next time we have a day off, I’m going to stick with you,” she declared fiercely.” So if you want to look for trouble, at least you’ll remember that you are dragging an innocent woman around.”

His intended reply was cut short by the sound of the infirmary’s door being opened violently from the other side. Hurried footsteps entered, followed by a frantic male voice.

“Doctor! Hurry! It’s an emergency! His– “

“General Bryne, you are overreacting,” a deeper, calmer voice interrupted and Suzaku stiffened.

It was _him._

Oh God.

The general was once more demanding for the doctor. Suzaku listened silently, his heart hammering in his chest, as the nurse stuttered an explanation that she was the only one on duty that night.

“I do not need a doctor, this is only a scratch,” Schneizel spoke again, his voice gentle and comforting. Suzaku could almost see the little smile on the prince’s lips, the one he often used to charm the fairer sex.

“Which was why I advised against meeting with the prisoners, Your Highness!” the general was almost shouting. “We are incredibly lucky that it’s only a scratch! If one of those Eleven trashes managed to get his hand on a gun–“

“I was under the impression that such thing could not possibly happen, General.” This time the interruption came fast and sharp, the voice cold. “But it seems to me that the security of our prisons requires further inspection. If I remember correctly, you are the one responsible for this.”

An instant remonstration was launched at this allegation, but the prince once more cut in with perfect ease. “Tomorrow then. Prepare the necessary papers and documents. If I find anything unsatisfactory, you can assure yourself, General, that I will put all blame on you. And do not refer to the Japanese people as ‘those Eleven trashes’ or I shall also report you for grave misconduct and inability to follow a simple order.”

There was a deafening silence at the other side of the curtain. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped a few degrees as well. Suzaku and Claire stared at each other. The young woman looked like she was about to burst out laughing, but her glee quickly diminished when the prince spoke again.

“Is there another patient here?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” came the nurse’s anxious answer. Claire threw him an alarmed look, sensing what was coming. “It’s Colonel Kururugi. He was injured– oh!“

Suzaku heard the approaching footsteps but almost didn’t have enough time to react and jump to his feet when the curtain was suddenly pulled open. Both he and Claire automatically fell into a saluting position upon seeing the Second Prince. He was wearing an unfamiliar look on his face, his eyes darting fast between them – from him to her and returning to him again. Then they narrowed slightly, probably noticing for the first time the various injuries decorating his face.

“You shouldn’t be standing,” the prince told him, but his tone was downright formal that it sounded more like an order than anything. Suzaku had barely begun processing the sentence when the older man turned to the nurse and said, again using the same tone of voice, “Attend to him first. I can wait.”

The nurse looked both terrified and uncertain. “But Your Highness–“

“It is an order.”

“Colonel Kururugi’s injuries are– “  
  
“There will be consequences for not following my direct order, nurse.”

“Please, Your Highness.” After watching this short exchange without a word, General Bryne apparently came to a decision that he should interfere once more. “Your well-being is infinitely more important than–“

“I believe I am the one who knows best about my state of well-being, General,” the prince's voice was emitting iciness far colder than the heart of an Arctic snowstorm. Once more, the temperature in the room suffered a drastic plunge. No one dared to look at him mainly because no one was suicidal enough to. The Second Prince was beyond irate.

It took a few seconds of nothing but frozen silence for Suzaku to realise that he was partly at fault for the painful situation. After all, he hadn’t managed to avoid Claire – and therefore this whole mess. Ignoring the rapid quickening of his heartbeat, he raised his eyes slowly, meeting the prince's fierce gaze, and said, “Your Highness, these are but minor wounds. They are not worth worrying about, and the nurse has finished treating them anyway.”

If possible, the look in the older man's eyes only grew colder. “Leave the two of us for a moment,” he ordered to the others, not moving his penetrating gaze away from Suzaku.

This new order harvested varied reactions from its three receivers, ranging from outraged incredulity to subdued wonder. The only similarity they shared was that they were quickly replaced by obedience. Suzaku watched silently as the three filed out from the infirmary, catching the worried look Claire was sending him. It reflected his own feeling perfectly.

“What happened?”

The question, delivered quick without any specific tone, made his heart almost jump to his throat. He felt his fingers instinctively grip the edge of the bed as he stared back to icy violet eyes.

“These are nothing, Your Highness,” he said in his most even voice.

“And that is not the answer to my question,” the prince replied with the same matter-of-factness. “What happened?”

Suzaku considered offering another equivocal answer but those eyes nailed his wits to the nearest wall and left it there to wither alone.

“I was…” he began, almost wincing when he heard the plain vulnerability in his voice, “I took a walk into the city this afternoon, and a few things happened.”

“You went to the ghetto.” It was not an accusation, only mere stating of fact.

“Yes, Sir.”

A long silence followed. Suzaku had dropped his gaze since second four or five and had been wishing for the end of this bizarre questioning – or court martial of some sort – even longer. He didn’t even want to guess why the prince was treating him this way. There was nothing worse than a false hope.

But the hand that gingerly touched his bruised cheek was gentle. Suzaku looked up in alarm and almost jerked away when he saw the prince’s eyes. The same eyes he had seen every night when he had been drifting in the realm between dreams and vivid reality. The same compassion. The same affection.

“Does it still hurt?” the older man asked with a tight voice, like two conflicting emotions were fighting a war in him and he was, for once, unsure of which side to endorse.

Suzaku gritted his teeth. Yes, of course they still hurt. His own countrymen, the people he was fighting for – _still_ living for – had thrown _rocks_ at him. These wounds would take a very long time to heal, if not forever. And Schneizel asked if it still hurt. 

Yes, of course it still hurt.

“No, Sir,” he answered stiffly.

A ghost of a smile appeared on the prince's face. “Do not lie to me,” he admonished softly.

Suzaku found himself trembling slightly when a thumb moved to trace the small cut on his upper lip. Dark, forbidden memories, long since buried and hoped to be forgotten came rushing back to him, trickling in fast like droplets of blood filling a silver goblet. He wanted to look away – this wasn’t supposed to happen again – but his muscles firmly refused to obey his wish.

A train of sharp knocking cut his wandering thoughts. The hand fell away from his face, just as a voice reached his ears from the other side of the door.

“Your Highness,” a male voice spoke, formally, without any hint of emotion, “there is an emergency call from His Highness Odysseus. Shall I put the call through here?”

“No, I will receive it in my office,” the prince answered, his eyes still on him and yet the moment had disappeared, as quickly as morning mist being chased away by the first stream of sunlight.

Then, without a word, he turned around and left.

 

\-----

 

26.

The terrible storm passed, time unfurled, and peace quietly settled in. It was the law, the balance itself, and it was the notion he had been constantly holding onto in order to go through his every day life. And yet, Suzaku still felt like it had ruthlessly betrayed him when he opened his bedroom door and found the Second Prince standing in front of his room.

There was literally no one in this world he didn’t hate right now. This man was probably on the top of his list after what he had done in the infirmary and the last thing Suzaku wanted at the moment was to see him.

And yet, here he was.

“Can I come in?”

What was the price of denying a prince something? Suzaku couldn’t remember if it was mentioned at all in the book  of he had read during his training at the Academy, but he knew enough that it could constitute as going against a direct order and therefore would subject him to more disciplinary consequences than he liked to care right now. He stepped aside, watching from the corner of his eyes as Schneizel walked into the room. When he closed the door behind him, it felt like he had voluntarily trapped himself in a prison cell with some kind of predator. A kind of predator – beautiful, intriguing, but downright deadly. It made his insides curl up in defence.

“Please sit down, Suzaku-kun, I am the intruder here,” the prince said again, and there was a smile on his face, the one Suzaku had always found a little too difficult to trust. Tension coiled in his muscles, he moved toward the bed and sat down at the edge, leaving the only chair in the room unclaimed. Schneizel, however, did not seem to take the hint and remained standing with both hands kept behind his back, eyes following his every move with the kind of detached interest that Suzaku recognised only belonged to him.

“How are your wounds?” the prince suddenly asked. “Better, I hope?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the answer automatically fell from Suzaku’s mouth. He had suffered bodily damage far too many, far too often to be troubled by these small scratches.

“That is good to hear.”

What followed the sympathetic comment were a few minutes of breathless silence. Suzaku carefully directed his gaze to a random spot on the wall at the other side of the room, somewhere in the middle, not too high but not too low either – perfectly unassuming. He couldn’t resist the temptation to wonder, even if very slightly, at the purpose of this small visit – or if it had any purpose at all other than making his life more miserable than it already was. Knowing the prince…

…who for some unfathomable reasons had suddenly knelt in front of him, looking up into his eyes as his hands slowly eased onto the bed, close enough to touch him. Suzaku felt his jaw dropping and heard a hitched gasp leaving his throat.

“Your High–“

And the prince kissed him – gently, carefully, lovingly. The touch of his lips was light but certain, full of warmth Suzaku had both craved and loathed with the same single-minded passion. His first reaction was not to react at all, mind numb and limbs frozen under the avalanche of shock. But then a warm tongue was pressed into the gap between his lips, lightly sweeping across the moist surface, and he lost every bit of self-restraint.

Like the breaking of a dam, he returned the kiss in quick, violent waves. The cut on his lips prickled slightly, but he didn’t care. His fingers found their way to grasp the soft fabric of Schneizel’s clothes – coat or shirt or something else, didn’t matter to him as long as he could use it to draw the prince closer to him. When a pair of arms wound around his body, he almost slid down from the bed to the other man’s lap. He wanted to feel more, wanted to touch more. The intensity was making him feel lightheaded. Reason was abandoned, want wholeheartedly embraced as they continued to overwhelm each other like nothing else mattered.

Their mouths broke apart at the exact same moment. Fingers still clutching the prince, Suzaku listened to their mingled panting and his own thundering heartbeat, loud against the thick silence enveloping the room. Schneizel was pressing small, fluttering kisses to his lips, taking care not to agitate the small wound there further. Gentle. Affectionate. Loving. Suzaku found himself on the verge of crying.

“Can I make love to you, Suzaku-kun?”

His eyes flung open in shock. Without thinking, he recoiled slightly from the other man but the prince only tightened his embrace, gazing into his eyes solemnly. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow on his handsome features, pronouncing high, aristocratic cheekbones and violet eyes so intense that they almost devoured him. The soft question echoed in Suzaku’s head as he stared back – sweet poison, lethal, seductive, the thing he wanted the most, and also the thing he dreaded the most.

A single drop would be enough to kill.

“Yes.”

The smile on Schneizel’s face was thin but so painfully honest. Suzaku quickly lowered his eyes, looking at his hands which had dropped back onto his lap. The smile made him feel defenceless, in a way so devastating that he doubted he could ever, _ever_ bring himself together again...

…which sounded even more impossible when Schneizel began to undress him slowly. Suzaku had no choice but to let him and just listen to the way his heart raced under the smallest touch. It was almost like performing a ritual. The prince worked in complete leisure, hands gliding over his skin like a boat over water, lips kissing every inch he had uncovered and often making him gasp when they came across certain spots. Tongue was repeatedly included in the process, teeth less often but the effects were just as breathtaking. By the time every piece of clothing had been shed off his skin, he was already breathing heavily, heady with anticipation.

Suzaku laid himself down on the bed, his heart hammering uncontrollably in his chest. This wasn’t new and yet he felt more anxious than he had ever felt. Something about the way he was touched, the way he was kissed, the way he was marked and claimed and _loved_ , spoke of things beyond his understanding. Never in his life had something like this happened. Not in _this_ way.

But when the prince started to touch him, to _really_ touch him, it was more than easy to fall back to their old pattern, his old role. Darker thoughts, always lurking quietly on the border of his mind, were once again roused to consciousness. It started softly, but became clearer and clearer with each stroke, gasp, thrust; a malevolent voice, whispering in his head, calling him a whore – _Schneizel’s whore, Britannia’s whore_. It kept echoing, even when waves of familiar pleasure lapped against the shore of his senses, even when they became so strong that he forgot everything else. It mingled with his harsh breathing, his gasping pleas, his soundless screams. He desperately clung to the older man until there was nothing between them but friction, and still it echoed in his head.

_A whore._

Drops of sweat were forming on his temple and his eyes burned with something else. He pulled the prince closer, moved faster, kissed deeper, moaned louder, all to drown the malevolent voice. He wanted it to stop. He wanted Schneizel to make it stop.  
  
Except he couldn’t. He was a whore. He was Schneizel’s whore. Britannia’s whore.

“Suzaku.”

The firm voice made him stop with a strangled gasp. Shaking violently, Suzaku opened his eyes, meeting the prince’s concerned gaze, and almost closed them again if not for the intensity of that gaze. He felt dirty, so much that he was ashamed – of himself, of the base lust which had taken over him like a sweeping gale. Of everything.

But Schneizel kissed him again, a sweet, gentle brush on his lips. His fingers traced a line on the inside of Suzaku’s left arm, on and on until they reached the valley of his palm and met moist, trembling digits. Suzaku instinctively curled his fingers, linking them together with the older man’s. The action calmed him down and he realised, with no small amount of surprise, that the voice in his head had disappeared.

“Let me make love to you,” the prince whispered, warm breaths caressing his ear. It made Suzaku aware of the position they were still in. Under the solemn gaze, he could only bring himself to give a very little, almost imperceptible nod. The little smile he earned in return was enough to make his stomach clench painfully.

They set to a slow, almost lazy rhythm. Schneizel didn’t allow him to rush them, ready with an assortment of methods to chastise him every time he showed a hint of impatience. The hands on his hips would marginally tighten their hold. There would be teeth on the base of his neck, grazing lightly, or a hot, slick tongue on the shell of his ear. In very extreme occasions, he would stop completely and look at Suzaku with raised brow until the younger man showed a definite sign of remorse. 

It was maddening, but he couldn’t say he hated it.

Just when exactly they had abandoned this stage for the next one was unclear. When he finally made an effort to understand his surrounding, their rhythm had long since quickened and fallen into disarray. The touches, the kisses became feverish, impatient with need. Hardly-muted gasps and breathless panting echoed off the four walls of the night. Clutching his bed sheet, Suzaku was lost in the sea of pleasure, rising and falling with each surge of wave. His whole body was burning, his heartbeat thundering, his mind screaming with need for release as they continued to make each other moan.

But the only thing he was aware of when he came was Schneizel’s name, how it rolled on his tongue like a sacred chanting, filling his breath, air, everything. And when his name fell from the prince's lips, Suzaku realised that he was crying.

The realisation sent him back crashing to earth. He tried to regain some semblance of power over his body, but it was a futile effort. He knew his gasps and panting couldn’t quite cover his sobs, so he turned his face away, covering his eyes with one trembling arm before Schneizel could look at him.

He felt the sensation of the other man pulling out of him and had to resist an impulse to reach out at the loss. Suzaku gritted his teeth. He felt like an idiot, wanting and not wanting at the same. He didn’t want the prince to leave, but he didn’t want him to stay either. It would be painfully awkward, not to mention humiliating since he would have to go into a long, mortifying explanation about why he suddenly cried.

But Schneizel didn’t leave. Neither did he try to remove his hand or ask him about the tears.

“Sleep,” a deep, soothing voice whispered above his ear and there were gentle fingers caressing his arm. “We’ll talk later.”

 

\-----

 

27.

‘Later’ turned out to be two weeks of neither word nor news, only silent heartaches.

That night, he had woken up after two hours of sleep and found himself alone in his room. Jumping to the worst possible conclusion seemed very logical at that time, natural even. As it appeared, he had – once again – allowed himself to be tricked and used. like a second-hand piece of toy

Suzaku was far angrier to himself than to anyone else, even the older man. He had been so stupid, to believe that something might have really changed when obviously it was nothing more than a cruel manipulation. The next two weeks felt like a freezing hell for him. Every time anything related to the Second Prince made a visit to his mind, he caught the unwelcome thought, bound it tightly, and stomped it flat onto the ground. Two weeks passed with all sorts of self-derogatory thoughts and mental punishments following him like a plague. It was enough to make anyone go mad.

And then a message arrived, on a piece of thick, expensive paper, delivered by a serious-faced imperial aide. Unlike the electronic messages he had received too many times in the past, this one was ended with an elegant flourish of curving signature, easily revealing the identity of its writer. Despite his brimming animosity toward the prince, Suzaku knew that he could not _not_ obey the summon if only it was because the aide was standing there waiting, ready to escort him.

He had a few theories regarding this sudden reappearance, all of them dark and equally infuriating. When his destination turned out to be the residential wing of the Governor-General villa, the foulest one sprang forth and defeated all others with its terrible reek. Then he was left alone in front of a beautifully-carved door where he waited in the company of ten or so homicidal schemes.

When the door opened and revealed the exact person who seemed to be the current bane of his existence, Suzaku felt his hands tightening into a pair of angry fists. The fact that he had not attempted anything more drastic genuinely astonished him. He was furious beyond reason.

“Come in, Suzaku-kun.” The prince’s voice remained the smooth timbre which had done _things_ to him in countless other occasions. He tried not to remember any of them as he walked in stiffly.

It was a bedroom, an abnormally vast one, but that wasn’t what made him stop in his track. It was the white candles, forty or fifty of them, brightly burning, their dancing fire painting the chamber in a warm light as they stood proudly on glinting crystal pedestals. It was the slow music that played in the background, a beautiful duet of gentle baritone and sweet soprano, the light footsteps of piano trailing after them. Suzaku was so stunned that he completely forgot to react when Schneizel wrapped his arms around him, warm body pressed close against his back. In one of his scenarios, he was supposed to throw the prince down to the floor should anything like this happen.

“I know you must be angry,” the prince said softly, a hint of apology in his voice. Suzaku was indeed so angry that he could barely produce a word without dyeing it in red angry colour, so he kept his silence. The other man seemed to take this as an affirmation and spun him around in his arms.

“There was a reason to my abrupt departure, Suzaku-kun,” he said solemnly. “His Majesty summoned me and the order came so suddenly, without prior notice at all. My leaving was to be immediate and in complete secrecy. I knew you would be far from pleased, but I had no choice.”

“Your Highness could have left a note,” his response sounded petulant, but Suzaku had past the point of caring at the moment.

“A note would be extremely rude,” Schneizel stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“And leaving without a word was not?”

The prince sighed, once more showing a hint of repentance. “That is why I intend to apologise.”

Suzaku found his anger slowly diminishing, but he wasn’t about to admit it. After all, the prince _had_ left him without a word. Letting him stew in uncertainty a little longer would only be appropriate.

Still – he swept another glance around the impressive chamber – for an apology this was a total overkill. The candles especially. He couldn’t imagine the amount of effort and time required to prepare them all – although, being a prince, the most Schneizel had had to do was probably issuing the order. And… was that a bottle of champagne? Suzaku blinked, uncertainty mounting fast. The idea that someone in the prince’s position would go through all these troubles only to apologise to him was so inconceivable that ludicrousness suddenly gained a whole new meaning.   


“I don’t understand,” he said weakly, looking back to the older man.   


The prince smiled at him. “I made you terribly worried, did I not?”   


“No, Your Highness did not,” he replied quickly, ignoring the wave of heat which was fast rising to his face. “Made me _angry_ would have described it better.”   


The smile widened into a smirk. “Then you must allow me to make amends.”   


Of course Suzaku allowed him. He had long since admitted that there was very little he could deny the prince, and even less when the request was accompanied by that suggestive smirk. And no, he did not regret it at all. Schneizel once again proved that he knew how to make him feel countless things at once and create a symphony of emotions that raced and collided against each other throughout his body. Pleasure was only one of many and it was so intense, burning the last morsels of his inhibitions into ashes until he could no longer restrain his moans and pleas.   


He was dimly aware of a glaze of warmth underneath the thick blanket of pleasure. It hadn’t been there before and he wasn’t certain what had suddenly caused it now. It could be the candles, or the sweet love song. It could be the bedroom. It could be the light in the older man’s eyes. It could be more.   


Yes, it could be more, as foolish as it sounded, Suzaku decided as they lay side by side in the quiet afterglow. His entire body felt weak and sated and what the prince was doing to him was far from helpful in this case. He had taken Suzaku’s hand and his lips were moving sensuously across the back, whispering some of the lyrics from the song, eyes closed in a moment of quiet appreciation. Suzaku found himself unable to look away from the sight, the feeling of the other man’s lips on his skin the only thing he was aware of. He was literally held prisoner, body and soul, until the prince looked at him again, eyes dancing with amusement.   


“Am I now forgiven?”   


Suzaku didn’t see how he could say no even if he wanted to. Schneizel’s responding smile was complacent.   


The music continued to play – softly, wistfully, colouring the deepening night. Suzaku felt his gaze being drawn to the burning candles, most of them already half their original height. Their little, flickering fire was reflected on wood-panelled wall, polished as shiny as glass. It felt incredibly strange to lie here amidst this sea of candles, almost like diving into a dream full of fireflies and endless contentment. A dream of peace. A dream he hadn’t seen in years. The dreamlike quality was only strengthened by the fact that when he turned his head, he would see a prince.   


Yes, he was on his smooth way to an obscenely romantic fool.   


Schneizel’s sky-blue eyes were studying him intently, shade of thoughts darkening them a little. Suzaku gave him an inquiring look and a hand came to rest on the subtle curve of his hips.   


“I believe there is still one more issue we have yet to talk about,” the prince said, his tone careful.   


Suzaku realised that this was about the three months prior to their accidental meeting in the infirmary, but he said nothing. Schneizel shifted slightly to lie on his side, perhaps a little disconcerted by this silence.   


“I owe you an explanation,” he said again. “Ask me what you want to know, Suzaku-kun.”   


A whirlwind of questions rose in his mind at this offer. Many of them were hanging by a thread above a bottomless abyss, ready to be cast away because to ask them had always been too painful for him. They would only come back to him, echoed by the grey walls limiting his own mind.   


_ Why did you avoid me. What are we exactly doing. Why can’t they understand what I’m doing. Why can’t I understand what I’m doing. Why this thing between us suddenly matters. _   


In the end, he chose the most bizarre one. The most fantastic. The most extravagantly confident. The most unwise. The most you-cannot-choose-this-not-even-when-you-have-nothing-else-to-ask.   


“Was it because Your Highness thought I could die in carrying out my duty to protect a prince?”   


Suzaku could tell that he had hit the bull’s eye. The prince’s features hardened slightly, like he was reminded of something he didn’t want to remember. There was also a hint of strain in his voice when he finally answered.   


“Yes.”   


A mix of inherently different emotions rose in Suzaku’s chest. He was torn between an urge to smile and to frown. This was unbelievable.   


“Schneizel-sama,” he finally said, bits of amusement and frustration blending in his voice, “Avalon was under attack at that time. As a soldier, it is my duty to protect the highest commanding officer in the field.”   


“To protect me,” the prince repeated flatly.   


Suzaku bit his lips. “Yes.”   


The hand on his hips withdrew, leaving a slight tingling feeling on his skin as the older man looked straight into his eyes. “Then what does it take to have you at my side without the additional duty?” he asked with a voice which sounded curiously distant.   


“My life,” Suzaku answered without missing a beat, and stared back steadily.   


A strange little smile came to the prince’s lips. “Then it was never on the table?”   


He shook his head. He was here for Japan and for his vow to Euphie. Not even this man could change that.

“But,” he spoke quietly, his voice trembling slightly, “I shall belong to Your Highness, as long as you protect Japan.”   


The long silence which followed his declaration was so heavy that he could almost put a number to its weight. The surprised look on the older man’s face had altered into a thoughtful frown that appraised and scrutinised him. Suzaku wondered anxiously if he had gone too far. Perhaps he hadn’t correctly judged his current position in the prince’s eyes. Perhaps he had just destroyed everything he had built by that one stupid, daring sentence.    


“Is that your offer?” Schneizel asked, his voice carrying no hint of any specific emotion.   


Suzaku swallowed and nodded slowly. “My only one.”   


“For your country?”   


“It has always been.”   


The strange smile reappeared. “Then perhaps you will be pleased to learn that I have been officially appointed the Governor-General of Japan,” the prince said with the same casualness used by people in general to comment on the weather.   


Suzaku felt his breath caught in his throat. “Really?” he whispered, his voice so small that the quiet music in the background almost overwhelmed it.   


“Japan is a problematic area,” the prince told him, still with the same air of utter nonchalance. “Anyone less than me will not do and unfortunately, this filter leaves very few options, if at all.”   


Suzaku caught himself chuckling softly at the last part. It was the way the other man had said it – plainly, candidly, without any trace of unnecessary conceit. For him, it was a mere stating of fact. A common knowledge, most certainly not something to be surprised of.   


“I must admit that your offer is very interesting,” the prince said again then and there was something in his voice which suddenly made Suzaku feel wary. “Are you so certain that I shall agree to it?”   


He could not help a smile, even if it wasn’t out of cheer. “I only have very little if not nothing to lose, Schneizel-sama,” he answered calmly. “Certainty is hardly an issue.”   


“Indeed?” The remark was accompanied with a mocking tone and a pair of raised eyebrows. “I happen to have come up with another theory. Has it ever crossed your mind, Suzaku-kun, that you may be falling for a prince?”   


The suggestion made his heart completely stop beating for a few seemingly endless seconds. And then it raced, faster and faster and the sound was deafening as he continued to stare at the prince, his mouth dry, smile long since vanishing without a trace.   


“And if I am?” he finally said, his voice trembling.   


Those clear blue eyes softened slightly. “And if you are, then I shall protect your country,” the prince answered and gave Suzaku’s cheek a light caress with the back of his hand. “But in return, I want your absolute trust and devotion. Is that fair enough?”

Suzaku discovered that his fingers were clutching the coverlet so tightly that the knuckles had turned white. He took a deep breath and nodded, once.

“Yes.”

 

\-----

 

28.

“You’re smiling.”

Suzaku replaced his practice gun in its holster and turned to Claire who had made the casual observation. “My hit rate is 100,” he gestured toward the target screen where his final score was still blinking in red. “Don’t you think I have a good reason to be smiling?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded, grinning, "but what I meant is that you often smile lately. I cannot help but notice.”

Suzaku was careful to keep his countenance perfectly clueless. “Is it that strange?” he asked with every bit of seriousness he could muster.

“Not really, no. It’s the reason that I’m curious of,” she told him, a suggestive tone in her voice. “Is it a girl?”

He spun around so fast that he almost lost his balance. “What? Of course not!”

“A guy then?”

His jaw dropped and Claire burst out laughing. “I was kidding,” she managed to squeeze in the words between bouts of laughter, “but looks like I’ve struck gold, hm?”

Too horrified to get his mind working properly, Suzaku was unable to stitch together a decent response. His attention had not budged from the word ‘guy’. Claire seemed to realize the maelstrom she had put him in and decided to come to the rescue.

“Hey, whatever floats your boat, Colonel,” she punched his arm lightly. “You don’t think I really give a damn, do you?”

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted with a weak voice.

“Now you do,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “That kind of thing doesn’t really matter to me. There’s just one thing I want to know. Is it, by any chance, Jacques?”

Suzaku gave her an indignant look. “What makes you think I’m going to tell you?”

“A girl can hope,” she grinned cheekily. “Well, as long as he keeps you in this good mood, I have absolutely nothing to complain.”

Suzaku found himself smiling foolishly. Yes, he was happy, so foolishly happy. The prince, with his charms and wits and decisions alike, had made him feel so inordinately happy that it actually frightened him. There were times when he caught himself wondering if he really deserved this happiness, after everything he had done. Surely it was too good to happen to someone like him.

But maybe for a moment, Suzaku thought as they left the training ground and now were heading to the mess, he could let it be and simply enjoy everything. He knew that plight and unhappiness would catch up with him soon enough, like usual, but for just a moment…

For just a moment.

 

\-----

 

29.

The end of the moment arrived much faster than he had expected.

It was exactly after lunch, not an hour after his conversation with Claire. He was heading to Lancelot’s hangar for an appointment with Lloyd when Jacques suddenly appeared out of nowhere and pulled him to a deserted corridor without as much as a small ‘hi’.

“I’m hearing things,” he said once he had made sure that there was no one in the vicinity but the two of them, his voice tense and swathed in anxiety.

Noticing the uneasy manner, Suzaku asked warily, “About what?”

“You,” Jacques’s answer came quick and sharp, “and a certain someone.”

His tone left no room for doubt on the identity of this ‘certain someone’. For a few moments, Suzaku could only stare at him, torn between shock and fast-rising bitterness. It felt like the floor under his feet had suddenly opened up and swallowed him whole. Jacques was dead serious. This wasn’t a joke.

“What kind of things?” he asked again, trying to sound calm and aware that he was far from succeeding.

“Bad ones,” the other man answered in a low voice. “I can tell you some, but I won’t. They’re not so nice for repeating.”

Suzaku almost snorted. He had been so used to hear not-so-nice comments that they hardly affected him anymore – especially after he had gotten some of them thrown to his face by the very people he was trying to defend. But he dropped the subject and decided to move on to the next question. There was a more pressing problem at hand.

“Who else knew about it?”

“Some of the lower ranks as far as I know, but they’re the same people who have been trying to discredit you since day one, so I don’t think many will believe them. But just this morning, I overheard two of the generals talking about it. Sure, they don’t like you either, but if the gossip is running rampant in the upper echelons…” Jacques made a helpless gesture and left it at that.

Suzaku closed his eyes, repelling an urge to slam his fist into the wall, and forced himself to nod. “Okay.

The other man looked astonished. “Is it?”

For some reason, the blatant display of incredulity brought a smile to his lips. "No, of course it isn’t,” he replied, almost giving into a bout of laughter despite the obvious disaster he had gotten himself into. He felt strangely calm, although it most likely came from the magnitude of his initial shock and the fact that he had yet to get over it. “But I will do something about it. Now that I know what is coming, at least I can prepare myself.”

 _But_ _what is coming?_ He could read the question on his friend’s face, but chose to feign obliviousness. Apparently, on some unspoken level, Jacques understood this as well and decided to respect his wishes. “Are you going to tell him?” he asked instead.

Now, that was something he had yet to consider. Would he tell the prince? The wise and obvious answer would be no, but there was a part of him – a fiercely selfish part – which urged him to. He didn’t want to be alone in this, and perhaps, as ashamed as he was to admit it, perhaps he wished for protection.  
  
How incredibly foolish.  
  
“I don’t know,” Suzaku answered at last, quietly.

The other man’s hand fell to his shoulder. “Listen. I know you like to suffer alone – no, don’t even _try_ to deny that – but just keep this in mind. No matter how many are coming to get you, you always have more friends who will stand at your side. Got it?”  
  
If the declaration hadn’t rendered him speechless, the frank, intense look in his friend’s eyes would certainly have.

 

\-----

 

30.

“Will you be my knight, Suzaku-kun?”

The prince’s voice pierced the thick mist of satiety which clouded his mind with the swiftness and precision of a burning arrow. Suzaku only blinked at him. It should be understandable that one’s reaction tended to fall within the slower margin after a feast of multiple orgasms. Even when the question had been duly processed, all he could manage was a far-from-intelligent, one-word reply.

“What?”

The amused look on the prince’s face told him that the prince was very much aware of the real reason behind this sudden lack of wits. Which wasn’t his fault at all. Suzaku wholeheartedly put the blame on the older man. He had come here tonight with the full intention to inform him of the disconcerting news Jacques had told him only this afternoon. One thing led to another and before he knew it, Schneizel had made him moan and beg and basically rendered any other subject unworthy of his attention.

“I am asking you to be my knight,” the prince repeated, returning his focus to present matter.

“Your Highness's knight?”

“Yes.”

“Your Highness doesn’t have one?” was somehow asked first. Not why or how or other sensible questions he could have chosen which spoke of a greater intellect.

Schneizel arched one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “Have you ever seen my knight?”

“No, but I always assumed…” he paused, following his mind chasing a group of wild conjectures. After almost flinching at the mental images some of them had conjured, he decided that it was safer to ask. “Did something happen?"

Or maybe not. The prince frowned slightly and his piercing gaze grew a shade cooler than it had been. “Perhaps,” he answered noncommittally, his voice still pleasant but somewhat detached, “but surely it matters little to our business, don’t you agree?”  
  
Suzaku ignored the warning bells inside his head and charged on blindly. “What happened to him? Or is it her?"  
  
Blue eyes narrowed as they regarded him again with something close to disapproval, and for a moment Suzaku feared that he had gone beyond every limit of informality the older man could tolerate. Maybe he shouldn’t have pressed on with the question. Not that he really wanted to know… well, yes, he wanted to know, but not so much that he would risk the second prince’s wrath. His future was not the only thing in line now.

“He died when I was eighteen,” the prince finally answered, his voice a mirror of perfect indifference. Suzaku cursed himself as massive guilt ambushed him out of nowhere. Where was his sensitivity when he needed it the most?

“Schneizel-sama–“

“It matters not, Suzaku-kun,” the prince interrupted him and his gaze slowly shifted to the golden canopy overhead, either to avoid looking at him or to make his displeasure known. Left to deal with the guilt by himself, Suzaku didn’t think he needed any more convincing on the state of the other man’s mood.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he decided that this would be the night when choosing the most daring – and quite possibly stupid – options there might be, was a preferable course of action. Sitting up, he swung one leg over the prince’s body and settled himself on top of the older man, straddling naked waist. Before the prince could react, he quickly bent forward, lessening the distance between their faces.

“If I become Your Highness's knight,” he said slowly, with the calmest voice he could manage, “will I have more power to help my people?”

What a foolish question. Schneizel was the Second Prince, the second in line to inherit the throne of Britannia. His knight obviously had the kind of authority that would stun a horde of oxen in their track, way beyond his wildest imagination.

“You will be the second most powerful man in the world once I have ascended to the throne,” the prince answered, his expression a picture of utter composure, as was the tone of his voice.

It was the brutal honesty in that answer which shot a bullet through his heart. Suzaku was acutely aware that Schneizel did so much more than just answering his question. The prince was trusting him with his deepest, darkest desire, one which could never be spoken freely unless in the company of his most trusted subjects. It was the complete baring of one’s soul to someone else, and he realised that it was the most honest admission he would ever get from this man.

Damn if that didn’t make him feel special in so many ways that it was plain impossible for him to be happier than he already was. Suzaku could already feel a very silly, very stupid smile growing on his face.

“I’ll do anything to realize my goals, Schneizel-sama,” he said softly but firmly. “If by being your knight I can get a little closer to the realization, then I will be happy to do it. That is of course if Your Highness will have me,” he added, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“I will not allow you to die for me,” the prince said fiercely and his hands were gripping Suzaku’s arms so hard that they hurt.

“I shall die only for a cause I deem worthy,” he replied, honest and solemn, “and if Your Highness happens to be one, nothing will be able to stop me.”

That was, he realised, also the most honest admission the prince would ever get out of him.

He couldn’t read the look on Schneizel’s face, and yet it was more heart-warming, more gut-wrenching that anything he had ever seen in his life.

“I should have known,” the prince murmured and pulled him down for a passionate kiss.

 

\-----

 

31.

It was completely different from being Euphie’s knight

The reaction alone was so different in scale that his first appointment felt more like a walk in the park. His status as an honorary Britannian was, as always, a bitter issue, but Schneizel’s standing had made it extremely difficult, if not impossible to dismiss. Suzaku had never really understood why – after all, Euphie was also a member of the Imperial Family – until Lloyd told him about Odysseus, the crown prince of Britannia, and how as either a leader in politics or a commander in battlefield, he did not hold a candle to his younger brother. This fact inevitably bred a number of speculations among the peers of the realm, particularly regarding the inheritance of the throne.

It was easy to understand why his appointment as Schneizel’s knight was considered the perfect embodiment of madness. Not only was he an Eleven, he was also a former knight of a deceased princess – definitely not the best résumé in the world. Such thing was completely unheard of. A knight must never outlive his or her master and to take one whose honour had been so besmirched was, once again, madness.

The preparation itself was a maze of complexities Suzaku often found himself lost in. The prince had provided him with several tutors whose job was to teach him everything he needed to learn – starting from Britannia’s history, literature, proper language, ways of the court, horseback riding and fencing, to politics and warfare. All must be done in less than eight weeks, before the knighting ceremony was due. Shortly, it would be two months of lots of hard work and little sleep.

To say that his burden was immense would be the understatement of the year. Suzaku knew that he wasn’t particularly smart or talented, so hard work was his only choice. However, the number of things he had to pay attention to was sometimes so overwhelming and the expectation high enough to give anyone an instant vertigo attack. He had caught himself on the verge of screaming far more often than he bothered to count, and knew for sure that his tutors had visited the exact same point just as often thanks to his former lack of learning.

At least, Suzaku reflected with a sigh, his busy schedules would spare him the constant stream of felicitations he received from his friends and coworkers – and occasional sarcasms too, from the snottier ones. The way they were congratulating him, one would think he was getting married or something.

“But are all these stuff really necessary?” he finally asked one day when the prince had invited him down to the villa for a quiet dinner together, which turned out to involve more of them enjoying each other than the excellent food.

“In the future, yes, for I am going to be the emperor,” the reply was delivered calmly, “and you, Suzaku-kun, are going to be my First Knight.”

Suzaku thought about the malevolent gossips, his past, the challenge they would undoubtedly face in the future, and was surprised at how little they seemed to matter right now. He had decided to gamble everything and stay with the prince because this was the path to power he had chosen. The power to determine his people’s fate. He wanted it, and he would do everything to earn himself the right to have it.

The sentiment remained exactly for seven weeks and three days. Because on the fifty-third day, he finally found out where the knighting ceremony would be held.

 

\-----

 

32.

“Why does it have to be in Britannia?”

“Because, Suzaku-kun, you are special.”

Suzaku could feel his face heating up and quickly looked away. Fortunately, they were alone in the conference room aboard Avalon and no one could hear the prince’s comment or see his very un-knightly reaction.

Said prince, of course, only sat there and looked amused.

Suzaku leant back to his seat and fumed in silence. He couldn’t understand why this crucial information had only reached him two days before their departure. He had assumed that like his previous knighting, the ceremony would be held in Japan. But no, of course not. Prince Schneizel el Britannia had to be special and therefore, so did his knight’s inauguration.

The capital of the Holy Empire. If someone shot him right now, Suzaku doubted he could feel any worse.

“But what if I make a mistake?” he blurted out, panic flanking him from every side.

“You will be fine.” Schneizel assured him, sounding far too nonchalant to his liking.

“But–“

“Trying your best is all you have to do,” the prince interrupted him smoothly. “You have learnt everything you need to know and I will take care of the rest. You now belong to me, Suzaku-kun, I will not let anything bad happen to you.”

Suzaku felt the familiar heat again – being around the prince seemed to go hand-in-hand with blushing in his dictionary. He glared at the older man and accused, “You like doing that, don’t you? And watch my face turn red.”

“It is a part of my amusement, yes,” the prince admitted with unmitigated lack of remorse. Suzaku continued to scowl. The whir of the ship’s machine suddenly sounded like a titter of mocking laughter to him.

“It will not be too different from your first knighting,” Schneizel said again, completely unruffled by his glares and scowls. “Perhaps the nobles are a little more arrogant than the ones you have met in Japan, but they will not dare to try anything. The only major difference is, I think, His Majesty’s presence.”

Suzaku froze, blood draining from his face. “The Emperor will be there?”

“Naturally. The ceremony will take place in the Imperial Palace.”

“Oh God.”

The prince studied him silently for a few moments and when he spoke again, there was a curious note in his voice. “What do you think went through everybody’s mind, especially those nobles you are prejudiced against so much, when I announced you to be my knight?”

Suzaku looked up and realised that this was more than just a matter of his opinion. He was being tested. “Your Highness chose me because I’m Japanese,” he said slowly, linking bits of information stored within the drawers of his mind. “Japan is one of the more dangerous areas and rather an important one because it’s a doorway to China and vice versa, not to mention a chief source of sakuradite. If Britannia cannot have the support of the Japanese people, it will be difficult, even near impossible, to stand the Chinese Federation’s attack for long, let alone launch a counterattack.”

The smile that appeared on Schneizel’s face carried a hint of satisfaction. “There, you already have the correct grasp of the situation. You have nothing to worry about.”

“But, Schneizel-sama, if I misspeak in front of the Emperor, or or do something which turns out to be inappropriate…” he shuddered at the thought and cast it away as quickly as possible. “I have the weight of my entire country on my shoulders. I cannot– I’m not ready yet. This is madness.”  
  
“You have to do this, Suzaku-kun,” Schneizel said, frowning slightly. “You are Japanese and I am proud to have you as my knight. I want this fact to be known throughout the world, but in order to do so, you have to show yourself in my father’s court. That is the only way they will acknowledge you. Ever.”

Suzaku fell silent. He knew that his prince was right. As of now, his position was too unfavourable and keeping a low profile clearly did not help. He had heard too many snide comments about his closeness to the prince, far too often. It was time to go all out, to show the world that he indeed could be a knight, and it wasn’t only for his sake. It was for his future lord as well.

He felt a smile touch the corners of his mouth.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

 

\-----

 

33.

So yes, it started out innocently enough.

If someone asks him what kind of good deed he has done to deserve this moment, Suzaku honestly cannot explain. That nothing happens the way one plans it is most likely going to be his answer. He has planned to climb up the military ladder as close as possible to the top, yes, but becoming the Second Prince’s knight?

He stares at his reflection in the mirror, a young high-ranking Britannian noble dressed in white ceremonial attire. His long, gold-trimmed coat is mainly responsible for such impression, he decides silently, but it still cannot cover the anxiety in his eyes, which only intensifies when the door to the throne room is opened and his name is solemnly announced.

The ceremony has begun.

It isn’t perfect, Suzaku reflects as he makes his way up the red carpet. There are still a lot of sneering faces and disgruntled whispers among the crowd of nobles on his right and left. The Emperor, he notices when he kneels in front of his prince, is regarding him with narrowed eyes from the throne. And Schneizel, Schneizel himself will always be this person who is a little out of reach for him, like the distance they keep in between right now, the length of the sword that touches his shoulders briefly to set their union in stone. Suzaku knows that no matter what he does, he will always end up loving the prince more than the other way around.

But he doesn’t do things half-heartedly, no matter how imperfect they are. And this has never touched the face of perfection from the start. It was a chain of heartbreaks – Euphie’s death, him pointing his gun at Lelouch, Lloyd’s pity, Schneizel’s cunningness. It was revenge, anger, sadness, all twisted into a vow. It was an offer, a pact, a simple cooperation

It was everything but love.

“Will you swear to protect me, Schneizel el Britannia, with your life?”

But the ends do not always have to reflect the beginnings. Because when he raises his face and meets the eyes of the man he has bound himself to, Suzaku realizes that the pieces of his life are finally falling into place.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

This is his life. His story.

A fairy tale of his own.

 

**_End_ **

 


End file.
